Lead me not into temptation
Heaven help me to be strong
I can fight all that I'm feeling
But I can't do it alone
Help me break this spell that I'm under
Guide my feet and hold me tight
Ten Thousand Angels, Mindy McCreedy
Sam shifted in the truck, hating the dress she'd tossed on, hating that her hair was the way it was, hating that she was focusing on the little things that didn't really matter because she couldn't face the real worries within her heart. These people, the people feet away in the white building, loved her then. They had understood her, and she had felt safe there. That wasn't the case anymore.
She and Jake were parked outside of the church, with Regina in tow. She'd been baptized here, been confirmed here, played in the cavernous basement with the very man who was looking at her with compassion on his face. She would have sooner undergone surgery without any pain medication than walk in there, now. She knew what was going to happen. Sam gripped her Bible, "Quinn skipped."
"And Mom's going to lay into him later, Sam. Everybody's..." Jake didn't know what to say, Sam knew. He was fumbling with his words, so she looked up and met his eyes. The words he could not speak were expressed clearly there. She knew that she had to do this, had to walk in there with her head held high.
"Ready?" Sam faked an expression, a semblance of a smile. Jake looked at her, chiding her that she'd even tried to lie like that, to him.
Jake put the keys in the glovebox. Regina jumped out of the car quickly. Sitting in silence for so long had obviously gotten to her. They'd arrived about twenty minutes ago, parked out of the way, and watched. Sam was shocked at how easily other people's lives just moved on. She didn't fault them. They weren't her family or something, but still, it was amazing to think that the church and the people she loved could so easily move forward without her. Sam knew it was foolish, dumb, to think that the world wouldn't move on without her, but the changes even in this unchanging place seemed huge.
As they entered the church, Sam stayed closer than totally necessary to Jake, trying not to make it obvious. Everyone was in the sanctuary, thankfully, or most everyone. Sam didn't have the heart to tell anybody that her feet still hurt. It would pass. She thought maybe that some part of her wanted to stick close to Jake. Sam shot Jake a look as they rounded the corner towards the nave, as the piano swelled in clear announcement that they needed to get to their seats. Jake started to move up the center aisle, but Sam tugged slightly, and headed down the side aisle to the family pew. How had he forgotten that she was there?
As Sam moved past, she felt it the second she'd been spotted. Mrs. Becton, who seemed to know everyone and everything looked at her like she couldn't quite place her. Then, even as Sam just tried to make her way to the pew, the woman realized that she was who she was. How could she not, Sam thought, with Jake behind her? Instantly, the awareness that she was being stared at by a whole crop of people roared through Sam like wildfire. She knew she was bright red.
The voluntary was nearly over as she slid awkwardly into the pew, trying to make enough room for both Regina and Jake. The voluntary finished as the room swelled with noise. She bumped roughly into Gram, who could not move over more than another slot because Dad was there, and the Brinkley's were on the other side of Dad, as they always were. Regina sat down quickly, and Sam's gaze flew to Jake's as Gram pressed a hymnbook into her. She was really sorry. If only she had listened to Gram and gotten here early, she would have managed to make this work. She hadn't wanted to, though, because she knew people would have questions she couldn't answered.
The piano shifted as the service began. Sam glanced quickly at Gram, who shook her head, and kept her eyes forward. When she looked up, Jake was cutting quickly across the main aisle towards the opposite side of the aisle. Quickly, Max slid over and let him in. Sam tried to remember that things were the way they always were. Frankly, it sucked about as much as the eyes boring into the back of her skull. So much for not making any scenes.
The hymn of praise went by quickly, because Sam was relived that the pastor had not mentioned her presence in the joys and concerns prayers. She was glad that her name had been omitted, though Sam saw it on the list. The list was a list of congregants to pray for. While growing up, they'd always been tasked with praying for them, and picking one person to send a card or do something for them in their time of need. So, she'd done a lot of yard work and dishes in her time. She was glad to do it, but was equally glad that the pastor hadn't read her name that was printed on the list. It was scary to see herself listed amongst the people she'd been raised to feel bad for.
Next came the confession of her sins, some of which had turned her soul to the blackest of charcoal. She was sorry that she wasn't strong enough. She was sorry that half the time, she wanted to scream and yell, put this behind her, even as she wanted to let herself be lost within all that her body was experiencing. She couldn't bring herself to be sorry that she was angry at Dad, who could've moved over more, angry that he saw her as some child, and yet, as someone who had to fight an injury alone but couldn't be expected to know that sex wasn't the best choice. It was like he saw her as some weak-willed weeping willow. What did he think he raised?
She knew that she needed to make things right with Gram, open up more. Gram was trying, and Sam needed to meet her there. Sam got lost in her thoughts, thinking about how awkward this morning had been for her, and how supportive that Gram's presence had been.
You get a line I'll get a pole
We'll go fishin' in the crawfish hole
Five card poker on Saturday night
Church on Sunday morning
Boondocks, Little Big Town
She had been nervous long after Jake had slipped away. There was no yelling, no discovery, so Sam tried to still her racing heart. Sure, sneaking out was old hat, but not splitting up after their adventures was entirely new. Sam hadn't known how this was going to play out, but she didn't expect to find Jake sitting at the table with Dad, eating at least his weight in breakfast. "Uhm." Sam said, "Morning?"
Jake looked at her, knowingly. Dad looked at her, strangely. "Yes, it is morning."
"That's not what I meant!" Sam bit out, tiredly. Of course it was morning. The sun was up, and it was before noon. Ergo, it was morning. Did everyone in this house think she couldn't figure that out?
Sam sat down, and took Jake's water. She just dared anyone to say one word about it. No one did. Jake, under the table, passed her pill bag to her. In her lap, Sam pulled out the pills and made a small line in front of her, hoping that Gram, who came in with a plate of eggs fro her, would not see them. Sam made the quickest work possible out of taking her pills. She spoke, "Jake said he'd like to take you to go get Regina. You won't be late for church."
Sam realized that Gram wasn't asking her not to be late. She was telling her not to be late. "No, we'll make it."
Sam pushed the plate away. This was a test of the highest order. This wasn't tiny Roper's Cafe. This was their church, people who knew her well, who knew far too much about the accident.
Sam recalled that she was back there at church, as the pastor spoke the absolution, including himself in the reminder of God's forgiving nature, and unfailing regard for His creation.
Sam needed to sit. She plopped down in the pew, ignoring Gram's startled expression, ignoring that she was the only person sitting in a room full of people saying the Lord's Prayer. She had stood long enough, and not even leaning on the pew in front of her had helped. The service was really just getting started. It was funny, the things she thought about, when she thought about God. She thought about sunshine, about timeless moments when she had been herself, and happy in her own world.
Then the readings started. Over and over the words fell over her ears, words of redemption and hope, words that she herself could not find the fullness of. It felt like there was a block between her and God. Sam was so angry at Him, angry at what He'd allowed to happen, angry that her life, that the lives of those she'd always loved had been irrevocably shaken. She was angry that she was angry. Still, she inhaled and said, "Thanks be to God." She had always been told to look for God in the aftermath of trouble, look for the ups in the downs, but she wasn't ready to find them. Everyone else was ready to move on, but not her. Sam was jarred when the Brinkley family left for the Children's church. That was new. Sam had been too old to be allowed to leave by the time it was implemented, but the whole pew emptied, save her family.
The pastor went on and on in his sermon about Christian unity. There was unity, he said, in suffering. One person's suffering was another's, and they all had an obligation to ease other people's pain and sorrow where they could. They had an obligation to seek joy, seek the fullness of life that was promised for eternity. Sam disagreed. Very few people in this room would ever understand her pain, and even fewer still could stand by her side and help her through it. Her pain was her own responsibility, and no one else's.
Sam panicked internally when Gram looked at her, as if to say, "Where's your offering?"
Sam didn't have any. She hadn't remembered to go to the wallet on her dresser and pull out a fiver. Still, she patted her pockets, to at least save face with her Gram. Sam was as shocked as could be when a $10 bill hit her grasp. The paper felt rough and alien, and Sam wondered fleetingly how it had ended up there. When the basket passed them by, Sam flicked a glance at Regina, who, while Baptist, seemed to be faring okay in the service.
She hadn't expected her to come, but she had served as the reason Jake was at River Bend in the morning. Gram had gone on about how kind it was to think of Regina. It seemed Jake had scored points, somehow, even when Gram still stared at them with laser beams of eyes.
I guess love would not be love
Without a risk of being burned
Anything in life worth havin'
Lord, it has its sacrifice
But the gift that you're receiving
Is worth more than the price
How Are You Gonna Know? Garth Brooks
When the passing of the peace, Sam saw her chance. She slid around Dad, after he put a hand on her shoulder, as he had every Sunday for all the years she could recall. She liked to think that in that touch there had been prayers, surety, and comfort. Now, his touch felt restraining. He was looking into her eyes, and his words of peace might as well have been "Stop."
She didn't. She ignored the swarm of people heading her way, and stepped across the aisle, pausing only to briefly accept the words of people she could not avoid, and give words quickly, avoiding their unspoken questions. She knew what everyone said about girls who sought out a guy in the passing of the peace, knew that her every move was being scrutinized doubly. She knew that there were gossip sessions about people who sought each other out in the passing of the peace. Were they having a torrid affair, which really only consisted of flirtation, because in this town, that was torrid enough? Was the girl throwing herself at him in the desperation of being a single girl in a small church? If the guy approached the girl, it was often speculated upon as a clear declaration of intent. She wanted to spare Jake that, spare him the burden of being seen as anything else than what he was: her friend. Jake was fending off Mrs. Harper when Sam got to where he was. She looked at Sam and quickly closed her mouth, patted Sam on the hand, and moved on.
Sam stepped into the pew to allow her to pass, praying she wouldn't topple over, or that Mrs. Harper wouldn't fall over. Sam was barely able to walk, and Mrs. Harper wasn't much better. Jake looked at her as Sam found her words, "The Peace of the Lord be with you." The words felt heavy. She knew that everyone was looking. Max was wide-eyed. They avoided each other in church like the plaque, usually, kind of like they had in school. Everyone knew they were thick as thieves, even at school, but they had tried to keep some semblance of gender segregation alive publicly. It didn't seem to matter so much anymore.
This peace, though, Sam realized, it wasn't a hello. It was a question and a promise. In those words were a plea for forgiveness and restoration of their relationship, even the rough parts, and a promise that they could have a clean slate in the coming week. She wanted him to forgive that she had taken him away from this, that he had felt compelled to come and be with her, outside of the world he loved and knew. She wanted the forgiveness for all of the times she had cried, in the last weeks, cried and thrown things, and lost her train of thought, pushed him away even as she couldn't get close enough. She had tried to forgive others, and now, she wanted restoration.
Jake really looked at her then, and Sam watched as something lit in his eyes, "And also with you." She shifted away, intending to go back even though she didn't want to, even that she hadn't planned to, when Jake stepped closer as Seth and Adam came back to their seats. The pew was crowded, and Sam knew she had to go back before the communion was called. Just as she was intending to, Jake's arm bracketed her body, shifting his body into her space, leaving enough room for everyone.
You left my heart as empty
As a Monday morning church
It used to be so full of faith and now it only hurts
And I can hear the devil whisper
"Things are only getting worse"
Monday Morning Church, Alan Jackson
Mrs. Harper had stopped by to tell him how glad she was to be seeing him back at church. Sam thought she was the talk of the congregation, but Jake knew that he was. This was the first time he'd stepped foot in here since the accident. He and God had a few things to work out, and showing up to worship when all he wanted to do was curse at God, and demand answers that He hadn't given, seemed wrong.
Jake had spent half of the service looking up and to the left, searching out Sam. He had never been so glad for the vantage that his family's pew provided, even though he knew that whatever Ely had picked this spot hadn't done so Jake, decades later, could stare at Sam. The elder brought down the large trays with tiny cups in them, that held grape juice. Jake took two because he knew that Sam would have trouble with the tiny, flimsy, plastic cups. She took it from him all the same, with a smile of thanks, and Jake took two squares of bread before he passed the basket to his brother. His hand remained under hers, not touching, just supportive, there, even as she leaned into his space. She was terrified that she'd spill the juice over her dress. He shifted the juice to his other hand.
"Draw near with faith..." The pastor spoke, "The body and blood of Christ keep you in life Eternal." At that, Jake completed the ritual with his right hand. The tiny cup slid into the holder in the pew. Sam set her cup on top of his, and it was only when she pulled away that he realized that the hand that had been under hers had been wrapped around hers for the entirety of the communion service.
Jake let the rest of the service wash over him, lost in the simple sensation of Sam's hand within his become his focal point. He nearly dropped the hymn book when Sam pulled away after the recessional. He was glad that she had come to him, because it saved him the non-verbal confrontation with Wyatt that was sure to come. He could have moved over more. The Brinkley kids had moved their stuff, and there was room that Wyatt refused to acknowledge.
Jake found himself wondering why they hadn't sat together in church in years. As kids, they'd sat together and filled in those silly "What words did you hear in the sermon?" sheets because they'd been expected to sit still and listen. Sam used to kick her patent leather clad feet against him, provoking him to kick back, and then blaming him for the noise when he did. He liked to sit with the Foresters as a kid, because it was a big deal to be trusted to sit somewhere else, even though his parents had only been trying to keep him and Quinn apart, because most of the time, only one of them could go to sit with Sam. He'd never much liked it when it was Quinn's turn.
She poked him in the ribs, "Quick, run! The hoard is coming." Her whisper was kind, but not completely without merit. The hordes were descending now that the service was over. He'd hoped they'd make it to the parking lot unscathed. The final "Amen" had been the death knell of their solitude.
After five minutes of talking, Jake wanted to flee. He'd be kind, and haul Sam along with him. The old ladies had decent intentions, he guessed, but Sam was left to field questions they had no answers to. She was leaving this afternoon, back to San Francisco. Jake did a double take internally, when she omitted that he was going to be with her. He knew that Sam was trying to get the eccentrics that had been planning their wedding since he'd grown into his hands and feet off of their backs. Still, some part of him, the part that had the remnants of a happy turtle painted over it, wanted her to acknowledge they were in each other's lives enough to warrant the reconciliation that was the passing of the peace.
Jake turned away from another church lady to hear Sam talking to a member of the youth group, Paul's little sister, Jessa. Jessa was all right. He didn't know her. She was so young. She was Sam's age, he realized, but in listening to them talk, he saw no comparison. Sam had always been more mature than the silly girls in the youth group, but the...time in San Francisco had changed her, changed them both. There was wheel burn on her fingers and a amused light in her eyes, like she was finally seeing Jessa for the child she was. Sam was trying to be polite, but Jake hoped to wrap up his conversation with Paul and leave. Paul's suggestion that they go play some ball was kind, but he was busy.
Sam caught his eye and her unspoken "Ready to go?" was met with his assent. They were collecting Regina, who was with Grace, when Wyatt called them over to talk to the pastor. Jake was trying not to grit his teeth at the man. After all, they were in the house of God.
"Sam, you ready?" Wyatt asked, holding open the door as they all made their way outside. His family had long ago left. Sam's return was the reason they'd been held up even further as the pastor had wanted to talk. He tried not to snap at Wyatt, when the man used "we" statements. Wyatt had done no work to help Sam recover, and he had no place in her triumphs. Sam's strides were hers alone.
Sam caught Jake's gaze. "We have...plans, Dad." She clearly did not want to mention that they were expected by his brothers to satisfy their curiosity, "I'll be home later. Promise." Sam shifted in her flats, and Jake knew that her knees were shaking from fatigue under the voluminous skirt she was wearing.
"Sam." Wyatt shook his head, "That's not an option for you." He looked at Jake when he said it, and Jake wanted badly to show him just how much of an option it was.
Jake knew the images in his mind were nothing but fantasy. He wouldn't make her choose. There was no choice to be made, he knew, even as some part of him hummed with satisfaction as Sam threw him an unspoken question. Yeah, he'd arrange it with his brothers. She didn't need to worry. "I'll get our stuff. We can just leave from River Bend, if you're ready, Regina?"
The woman smiled, "My bags are in the car, but thanks for asking." She shifted against the sun, and Jake knew that this conversation had to move on. It was hot enough to boil water outside with no stove, even though it was before noon.
Sam shook her head, "No." Just no. There was a determined glint in her eyes, one that dared anyone to challenge her. "I'm coming with you."
Wyatt looked heavenward, "Samantha." Jake just dared Wyatt to raise his voice. He just dared Wyatt to say one thing to her that wasn't exactly the way it ought to be.
Jake saw a lightbulb go off in Sam's eyes, "It's just that...Gram's out of ice." Wyatt, instead of looking angry, looked concerned. Sam continued, "We'll go get some, stop at Three Ponies to let everyone know the plans, and be home."
Grace looked vaguely impressed, if vaguely ashamed that she was feeling that way. Regina was suppressing a smile. Wyatt looked befuddled as to how he could put up a fight. She was a genius. Jake was amazed by her guts when she started off towards the Scout, stopped, turned around, looked at Jake, and said, "That's cool with you, right?"
I would follow him right down the roughest road I know
Someday soon, goin' with him someday soon
But when he comes to call, my pa ain't got a good word to say
Guess it's 'cause he was just as wild in his younger days
Someday Soon, Suzy Bogguss
Sam sighed in relief as she and Jake drove away. He quirked a brow, "Ice, huh?"
"I hope you've got money." Sam replied, indicating her lack of funds. "Thanks for the tithe, by the way."
Sam flipped on the radio. It was the perfect country song for driving down the road, and Sam almost sighed at how perfect the solitude was. Jake didn't say anything, and Sam knew that she'd have to get the money to him when they got home. If he was going to take to slipping money in her pockets, she had every right to reciprocate.
They stopped at the store, and Sam declined to go in. She was swimming through the mental stimulation that church had been. She really hoped the dinner at home was low key. She wanted to throw on some sweat pants, eat a decent meal, and spend the afternoon in the cool quiet that was her home. Jake left her alone in the truck in the parking lot, and Sam simply listened. Since the accident, even the smallest of stimulations was sometimes enough. She was content to sit and watch the world go by, content to hear the hum of cars, feel the warmth of the sun as it was absorbed through the glass and contrasted with the air. Old song lyrics floated in and out of her brain and the ten minutes that Jake was just enough for her to relax into a slushy lump of warmth. She thought about just skipping dinner, and curling up somewhere. It was hot for most people, but she had been cold from poor circulation and nerves all through church.
The warmth of Jake's body had been bulwark in the process of communion. Church was draining, but he'd been there, and they had gotten through it together. She knew that Jake had something to say, though she was content to wait it out. She jumped when the car door opened, relived that it was just Jake, and not some crazed, masked, mad-person, intent on mayhem. Sam cracked a smile at the image in her head. Matrona had taken up kickboxing after her injury.
Jake smiled in return, "What's so funny?"
Sam looked at him, and flipped the radio, "You are." And he was. His hat was on his head, and he was driving them a long road on a desert. Country music was playing, the real stuff, not slicked up Nashville flavored pop, because Jake had banned that from his beloved Scout's radio, and things were going well.
"Hey." He said softly but quickly, when she pressed the station past a song he liked, "Let that be. You're going to wear out the button."
Sam suppressed a smile, and leaned back against the seat, pretending not to notice when he started to hum the song out loud. He pretended not to notice when she started to sing the words out loud. She pretended not to care when he joined in, but it wouldn't have taken much to see that she was honestly glad. She was even happier when Jake started to drive at just the speed limit, instead of his customary bit over.
I had a horse, her name was Bad Luck,
She wasn't good lookin', but she sure could buck.
Yeah hoo- Hey, hey,
Yippy-i Ki-ay.
That Buckin' Song, Robert Earl Keen, Jr.
Her good mood didn't even fade when they loaded up the bags at Three Ponies, or when Max hugged her tight. "You come home again before you leave, understood?" Sam promised that they would stop by, and waited for Jake to finish hauling his stuff outside. The radio was their companion, bolstering them when otherwise, the moment would have been too complex for words to even start to express the fullness of their emotions. Jake pulled in, and Sam regretfully shut off the radio. She was looking around when movement in the pasture caught her eye. She had tried her best not to look, but she looked now, and what she saw, scared her. There was a woman in her pasture, with her horse. With Kitty.
When that fact registered, Sam was out of the truck as quickly as gravity could take her. She was glad to be so close to the pasture. Horror rushed through her. She felt like Forrest Gump as he raced away from the rednecks who were bullying him in school. She wasn't moving very fast, to be sure, but the clip was the fastest she had. Sam was at the gate, beating Jake by a little bit. She fumbled with the gate, and the intruder looked up. "Get away from her!" Her words were loud, rushed. They hurt her ears. "Get. Away. From. My. Horse. Now." Sam was winded, but she knew that she could be intimidating when she needed to be. Sam put herself between her horse and the stranger. She could feel Jake's presence, utterly calm, but sharp like glass.
She might be slightly out of order, but Kitty didn't care. Something inside of her snapped when Kitty looked at her, and there was no hate in her warm eyes, only a calm, "Well, I wondered when you'd come 'round." Sam ran her hand over Kitty's velvety nose, as the horse snuffled. Sam modulated her tone and cut the redhead off, "This isn't a bo-boarding barn. You can't just touch someone else's horse..."
Sam would have gone on for ages, but Jake cut in, "Who are you?" He stepped closer to Sam and Kitty. Sam felt like she was shattering. Her heart was racing and she was trembling. To think that she had been home for two days and hadn't raced to Kitty's side. To think that she had just realized that she wanted more than anything to stay, just as she was planning to leave. The injustice of it all hit her like a bad fall. The guilt was still eating her alive, but she didn't feel it in quite the same way. Some of her unvoiced questions had been answered and she found that, whatever had been ruined, her bond with her horse hadn't been one of those things. Kitty seemed to be laughing at her short hair, snuffling at her. Sam breathed in her horsey scent, and rejoiced.
The woman looked at her strangely as Sam fumbled with keeping her balance. "I'm Brynna, Sam." Sam noticed the tone in the woman's voice, but didn't have a clue how that was supposed to matter. She looked at Jake, asking him to get somebody, because this woman knew her name and was clearly unhinged.
He shook his head, indicating that he wasn't about to leave her alone. Sam looked at Jake, questioning what their plan was. He shot a glance at the barn, a clear "Go."
Sam refused. The woman wasn't a threat, just a trespasser and a thief. She wasn't going to hurt them, and there was no reason for Sam to go for help. And anyway, she wouldn't leave him. Not now. Not ever.
The woman smiled, again. "You must be Jake. Wyatt's told me so much about the two of you. He hardly shuts up about you, Sam." The woman blushed, "Not that I want him to! I don't mean..."
Jake was as confused as Sam was. "You need to spell it out for us." He was on guard. Sam was confused, but she knew that, together, they'd figure it out. The woman wore jeans, and a floral blouse. Her red hair was bound up, and Sam thought that perhaps she was pretty. Her nose
The woman frowned, "He didn't tell you I was coming for dinner?" She smiled, as though she was used to Dad, "Well. He can remember the details, but the big stuff, like inviting his girlfriend over for dinner, that he forgets."
Sam's heart stopped. Everyone said that it happened, but Sam had never felt it before. She had called all those people melodramatic liars. Now, she knew how wrong she had been. It was a moment of absolute stillness, absolute nothing. She knew, now, after all of this time, what dying felt like. The white-hot pain passed in a nanosecond that felt like her entire life was being pulled out in front of her and there was nothing left but the pain. There was no pain like this betrayal, and this loss. She would have rather been run over by a horse, had to deal with another stint in rehab a thousand times than have to deal with knowing that Dad had lied, lied and moved on, just like everyone at church. The worst night a rehab felt like a gentle hug in comparison to this. A part of her died, in that moment, and Sam knew that no amount of anything would ever bring that part of her back.
The blood drained from her face as this woman's words hit home. She heard Jake inhale sharply. "He didn't mention me?" The woman shifted. Her boots were colorful, and the colors blended in Sam's vision.
Sam felt like she was going to pass out. Her vision started to swim and her head felt light. She was going to be sick. The only thing that kept her on her feet was Kitty. She was going to be sick. She did the only thing she was good at now. She lied. "It's fi-..."
Jake cut her off, voice hard, "You can go."
The woman nodded. "I'll just let your father know you're home, Sam."
Here comes goodbye
Here comes the last time
Here comes the start of every sleepless night
The first of every tear I'm gonna cry
Here comes the pain
Here comes me wishing things had never changed
Here Comes Goodbye, Rascal Flatts
Jake wanted to put his fist through a wall. He wanted to kill Wyatt. Sam was crumbling before his eyes. Every bit of her that had trusted her father, every bit of her that had loved that man with the devotion that defined Sam Forester broke in that moment. It was heartbreaking to see the pain and the betrayal flood her body, as though it was coming from the depths from her soul.
Jake knew he wasn't faring much better. He'd deal with his pain later, they both would. Sam was seconds away from sobbing. Her nose was twitching in that way it always did seconds before the tears flowed. He'd seen her cry too many times over things people had no control over. Wyatt had control over how this happened, and he had let it happen like this.
Jake wrapped his arms around her, and let his tears flow into her hair. There were no words for what he was feeling. He felt betrayed, and utterly destroyed, decimated in a way that he had never expected. He was supposed to be an adult. He was supposed to be taking care of Sam. Instead, he cried for the last thread of relationship between him and Wyatt. There was no going back from the lie, no changing how it had become known.
Sam tried to soothe him, "Hey..." Her voice was hoarse from her own tears, "Hey..." She was trembling, even as she reached up, trying to brush back his hair, "Don't cry, Jake."
A broken sob escaped him as he looked at the broken heart plain in her eyes, "I'm supposed to be taking care of you." Jake tried to think, tried to clear his head. He felt so angry, so angry and shocked that he couldn't see. They hadn't known to expect this.
She wiped her tears on his T-shirt hem that she yanked out from under his dress shirt, "You are." Sam cried, and he cried, until there were no more tears to be found within the dry desert their hearts had become. Wyatt was a liar, and the whole foundation of who they'd known him to be was gone. Kitty had lumbered off for parts unknown, wholly disinterested in her human's antics. Jake looked at Sam's pale complexion, and the tear tracks that contrasted her red nose. Jake reached into his pocket, and passed her a tissue.
"What are we going to do, Jake?" Sam was looking to him for an answer. For the millionth time, he felt the crushing blow of not having an answer when her trust was so clearly placed in him. "I can't stop thinking..." Sam sniffed, "I've spent so long praying I could think, and now, I'd give anything to make my thoughts stop."
"I know, Brat." Jake whispered, "I know." He could see the ghosts of memories dancing in her eyes, no longer happy, but tinged and taunting. He hated Wyatt from taking those memories from her, forcing them to become something new.
"Well." Sam shook her head, as if to clear the headache he saw building between her eyes, "I thought Gram was making pie."
He knew Sam didn't want to go in there, but she also didn't want people to come find her. Sam was infinitely stronger than he was. He wanted to go, and never set foot in that house again. He was enraged, and under the rage, was a pain that only loss of every belief he'd held dear could cause. "You're stronger than this, Sam. Don't ever forget that."
She nodded, "I have to be, Jake."
He wished that wasn't true, even as he couldn't deny the truth in her words.
Everyone thinks that girl's a lady
But I don't.
I think that girl's shady.
I know that you think she's best
I don't even think she cares,
I don't know what you see...
There's nothing there.
Doo Wah Doo, Kate Nash
She had the guts to be nice to them. She had the gall to smile. She lacked the brain cells to fail to see that this wasn't okay. Sam had never met a dumber person. She had never met someone she hated so much in her entire life. She had never before wished someone ill. She wanted this woman, with her smiles and her red hair, gone. She thought of a thousand cutting remarks. She thought of a million ways to put the woman in her place. Then, she would look at Dad. The desire to speak grew, but her resolve lessened.
Sam wanted to scream. She wanted to yell until every thought that was ripping her mind like hot lava stopped. She could hear Ella in her mind saying that she had dissociated, that she felt like she was living in some kind of nightmare because her mind, her soul, couldn't cope with the reality. She nearly gagged on everything she put in her mouth.
This was a farce. This smiling Dad, who danced on every word the woman spoke. He was a liar. This smiling man wasn't her father. Gram didn't seem to notice that she'd just been sobbing her eyeballs out. Sam tried to focus on her desert plate. She couldn't hear a thing that was being said. She felt like she was being swallowed by static. This was agony. Regina was beneficial in that she participated in conversation, meaning that Sam and Jake's silence was unnoticed for a long period of time.
Still, the woman tried to involve her in the conversation, as did Dad, but it was no use. Sam was worn out, beaten down, broken. Sam was in the middle of telling Jake that they could leave whenever now that the agonizing meal was over, when she broke into their nonverbal conversation. It was the height of rudeness. Anyone who knew them that you didn't interrupt the flow of a conversation. But. Then. She didn't know them. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?" Jake asked, shortly. He was just as hurt as she was, if not more. He'd always identified with Dad, taken pride in wanting to emulate him, and now, they both knew that there was nothing left to emulate.
The woman tilted her head, like she thought she was being cute or something. It was disgusting. She was disgusting. They both were disgusting. "You look like you've been having a conversation."
"I'm sorry, Bryn." Dad said, setting Sam's teeth on edge, "They never did learn how rude it is." He shot Sam a warning glance. She sipped her lemonade to chase away the peppery taste of angry words.
"Rude?" Jake sharply asked. Sam looked at him pleadingly. He shut up. She didn't have the energy for an argument.
The woman shook her head, as if she were so sweet and kind as to ignore Jake's tone. What a lying idiot. No one could be insulted and not take offense. She must be the dumbest creature to ever walk the face of the earth, thinking she could just waltz in here like there was room for her, like she was needed or wanted. "Fascinating."
"We're not lab rats." Sam snapped. "It's not magic." She was so tired of people going around and saying that there was something different about their relationship, something wrong. It got old, really fast. It got even older even faster from this person. There was no reason she needed to know. And anyway, the screwed up relationship in this room wasn't hers. Her relationship wasn't built on lies and secrets.
"How do you do it?" The woman pressed. Sam nearly threw her water glass at her. She saw the image in her mind, saw the woman drenched with water, felt the hum in her blood that screamed "Do it!" but she didn't. She held in her words, and gripped her water tight to ensure that she wouldn't toss it across the table into the woman's fake smile.
Maybe if she tried to make connections with someone other than someone else's husband, she would figure it out. Maybe if she spent 16 years devoted to a person meant for her, instead of scamming on someone else's family, maybe she too would be able to read someone, feel them with her whole heart, instead of just the bits she stole from someone else. Sam was fed up with the woman's rudeness. "I'm sorry, do you just go around asking personal questions to virtual strangers?" The woman didn't know her, and Sam didn't care to change that. In fact, she prayed she never saw her face again.
Dad looked furious, Sam met his hard gaze. She spoke to him, hoping he'd get the message. "It's just trust, and communication. Respect. Tough concepts really." Dad was cut off at the knees. He knew it, and she knew it, too. He said nothing, shame fleetingly marring his fake joyous expression. Sam knew that emotion was a lie, too. She had been raised by a liar. Thank God Momma wasn't here to see this. It would kill her.
So I listened to the preacher as he told me what to do
He said you can't go hatin' others who have done wrong to you
Sometimes we get angry, but we must not condemn
Let the good Lord do His job and you just pray for them
I pray your brakes go out runnin' down a hill
I pray a flowerpot falls from a window sill
and knocks you in the head like I'd like to
Pray for You, Jaron and the Long Road to Love
The woman was going on about some trail ride or other. Sam didn't know. She didn't care. This whole thing was a bunch of bull. "...that night."
Jake's grip on his fork was tight. Sam didn't know what to make of it. Dad had gone on dates with this woman. That much was clear. Sam nearly jumped when Jake replied, "I know what night you're talking about. Sam was in the ER that night."
Sam understood, then, that Dad had been with her the night she'd been in the ER. It hurt, but clearly, Jake was taking it harder than she was. She could not allow herself to feel, even though she knew that everything was going to hit her in a few hours, and that likely, she'd spend the next few days vacillating between rage and abject sorrow. It was the price she'd pay for not allowing herself to feel now, and if Jake's reactions were anything to go by, it was a price she'd gladly pay.
Still, some echo of the hurt she was trying to bury must have displayed on her face. Her father had chosen this other person over her. Sam didn't care what Dad did. She tried to lie to herself that she didn't care that he was breaking every vow he'd ever made to Momma. He'd taken off his wedding ring. He never did that. Now he had. Sam tried to tell herself that it didn't hurt her. It did. It did. When she'd come inside again and noticed, she couldn't breathe. Even now, ages later, she couldn't look at him. That ring, the marriage it symbolized, had made him the man he was. How dare he pretend otherwise and try to erase Momma.
Not only had he placed this woman above Momma, he'd placed this woman above her. Momma was dead. That didn't negate much, but it did mean that she couldn't physically need Dad. Sam did. She had needed him, and he wasn't there when she needed her. He had been with this woman that night. Sam hoped the choice was worth it. His gaze was searching, begging her. Sam shook her head, not caring what he had to say. "I just needed to talk to somebody."
His words were soft, but all Sam heard were lies. He could have talked to Gram, to Max, to Luke, to Jake, to Sue, to her. He could have talked to anybody, and yet, he'd picked this stranger to talk to about things she didn't even understand, things she would never begin to understand. Sure, he'd needed to talk.
The woman was oblivious, like the annoying little twit she was. She was nattering on like an annoying fly. Couldn't she see how dumb she was? Did she have no sense of self-awareness? "Your father and I met when he came down to the BLM to talk about your horse."
Sam looked at her, gaze like ice, "My horses are are mine." This woman could do whatever she wished with Dad, whatever she cared to do, though Sam didn't have much to say about her motivations. She was young enough, theoretically, to be Dad's daughter. At 27, she was closer in age to Sam than she was to Dad. For the man to go on like a madman about a three year age difference, when he was in his early 40s and dating a woman who hadn't even hit 30 was laughable and hypocritical.
What did a woman like this one see in Dad? He was a stick in the mud who folded his socks and had no time for silly dates. Evidently, he did have time for romantic trail rides and to date women who got their nails done. Who spent money on their nails? What a waste. Sam hoped she didn't expect to get her hooks in Dad, and spend her college fund on nasty nail designs without any sense of line or proportion.
Those nails gripped a napkin Sam had embroidered, and she wanted to rip it out of her hands. "Of your accident, dear, though, your father wanted to check on the legality of some things surrounding Blackie. That's how we met. He's told me quite a bit about what you've been going through."
"Oh." Sam said, trying to shut this conversation down. How had she forgotten about Blackie, about him being out there, lost and alone, about him being just as lost as she was? She was horrible, and she needed to get out of here. She needed to do something, get outside. Somehow. She had to fix this mess.
Sam shot a glance at Jake. He saw it, like he saw everything, and swore with one micro-expression that all was well, but she couldn't ask him how he knew. How could she be selfish to forget that Blackie had to be found, had to be safe. There were any number of issues that could befall him. He was young, sure, and used to the comforts of ranch life. She had no way of knowing if he was physically safe.
"I...wanted to help." The woman said, "So I hope you don't mind, but I've been taking your horses out."
Sam made a broken sound. She could not hold in her words. It was all she could do not to scream. There was something sacred between a person and their horses, and to have another person come between that without permission was the lowest thing possible. A person's relationship with their horse was an extension of their selfhood, their souls, and to have someone enter into that dynamic without permission felt like a violation of her soul. "I mind. I mind very much. I would have appreciated being asked, but since I didn't even know you existed, I can see how asking me if you could ride my horses would be an issue." Her tone was like flint, striking sparks against every spot that the words hit, "But since you've asked now, what I said earlier stands. I can't make it any plainer. Stay away from what's mine."
Dad's spoon hit the table with enough force to make her jump. She wasn't scared of him. He could speak as he wished. You were only afraid of people that had control over you. He had nothing except a tawdry relationship that he had sacrificed his wife and child for, "Sam. I didn't raise you to talk to people like that. Kitchen. Now."
"It's all right." The woman said, "I can imagine how it must feel to be in her position, Wyatt." She looked at Dad, reprimanding, "You should have told her."
The change in his face was instantaneous, and it made Sam sick to see it. This person had Dad wrapped around her barely grown up, polished finger. Sam did not need this person's help in her relationship with her father. Still, she said nothing, as she had all afternoon, and squeezed Jake's hand under the table.
Will you stop, no don't show!
Just have a think before you...
Will you stop, don't show!
Will you just have a think before you...
My brain and my bones don't want to take this anymore
No my brain and my bones don't want to take this anymore
No my brain and my bones don't want to take this anymore
No my brain and my bones don't want to take this anymore
Dickhead, Kate Nash
It was cleaning up dessert that changed everything. After the outburst, she had felt poorly, and made more of an effort with her Grandmother. Her mother had raised Sam to be polite, not that anyone seemed concerned with recalling her. Ignoring the woman pointedly, Sam said, "I didn't know you made peanut butter pie, Gram."
Grace smiled, "I didn't, honey, Brynna did." Sam wanted to spit out the bite of the pie in her mouth. She would have done it, had she not liked this dress because it was a gift from Sue, and had she not dropped her napkin after twisting it within her fingers. She swallowed, and set down her fork.
The woman added, "Of course your Grandmother was nice enough to let me use the kitchen, as mine is so small." Sam just bet her kitchen was small. No doubt her small kitchen made good company for her tiny, vapid, brain, "I heard you like peanut butter." Great. Now her favorite food was ruined. The woman had already taken her father, tried to steal her horses, made light of everything she held dear, and now, she stuck her grubby paws into her favorite food? Sam would never be able to eat peanut butter pie again without thinking about the woman who made her stomach turn, and the father who'd betrayed her like a coward. What more did she want?
The woman smiled hopefully, and Sam looked at the pie. It was then that she saw the pie dish the pie was in. It was a lovely Lenox pattern that Sam had seen a million times. Her mother's smile flashed before her mind's eye as they made a pudding pie in that very dish. The woman had used her mother's pie dish. She had... Oh, God. Gram made move to go get the coffee. Sam shifted, standing. "I'll go check on the coffee, Gram."
Jake stood, "I'll help." He put a hand on her arm, having felt that her knees had been shaking all during the meal. Sam had tried to stop it, but controlling her trembling only made it easier to cry. She refused to do that in front of these people. She needed a plan. She could not allow this farce to go on. She could not allow her mother to be pulled into it. If Dad wanted to be a cheating, lying, good for nothing, that was one thing entirely, but to haul Momma into it wasn't something Sam would allow.
Sam flicked her eyes towards the pie, and blurted without thinking, "If we've all had pie, I'll go cover it." She grabbed it awkwardly, almost loosing her balance in the process. Momma wouldn't want this pie in her dish, would she? She kept her expression blank though inside she was screaming, and headed into the kitchen.
Jake boldly shut the door between the room. Sam knew that normally wasn't allowed, but she dared anyone to say anything. Jake's gaze met hers as soon as they were in the room, "Brat?"
"Get me some tupperware." Sam asked, moving to get a knife. She felt as though this place wasn't even her home anymore. She didn't...she didn't have a home. She didn't have a home. She had lost everything. Her life with her horses. Her home. Her father. Everything that she could have counted on to be the same when she got home had changed. This was worse than realizing that the community had moved on. That they had warned her about in rehab, but not even Ella had told her that her family was going to leave her in the dust.
Got a pebble in my hand
And I toss it out into the middle of the Rio Grande
But the river keeps runnin'
Don't even know that I'm around
I could throw a million more and not slow it down
that's kind of what I'm feelin'
Tryin' to stop your leavin'
There's nothin' that I wouldn't try
If I thought it would change your mind
Train's a comin', river's runnin'
Train's a comin', river's runnin'
Pain's a comin', tears are runnin'
Yeah that's kind of the way I'm feelin'
Knowin' I couldn't stop your leavin'
Trying to Stop Your Leaving, Dierks Bentley
"Huh?" He asked, getting the coffee service together. Sam noted through unshed tears that he was using the everyday set. It was a message that the woman would miss. Sam wished she could be dumb enough to fail to see how much her actions in the last weeks and months had effected everyone around her. Although, maybe Dad wasn't as effected as she'd thought. Sam couldn't bring herself to be glad about that, though under any other circumstances, she would have been.
"Plastic storage containers for food, usually with blue lids." She elaborated, hacking into the pie with force, creating pretty even slices, her grandmother's training not even leaving her in times of stress. Her body was shaking. She was so tired. She could not back down now. She would make it through this.
He nodded, and handed her several from the cupboard near his feet. She transferred the pie into the plastic dishes calmly. Finishing her work, she mutely snapped lids on each of the filled bowls. Turning, she walked to the sink, placed her mother's pie dish gently in the deep farm sink, and turned on the hot water full blast. She watched as particles of chocolate crust and peanut butter floated to the top of the water. She added a squirt of soap, and watched as the water filled the sink, soap bubbling up as it did. She moved, lost in recesses of her mind, to lift the dish and scrub it clean. Jake spoke, then, as he'd been watching her. "Brat, don't!" He reached across her and turned on the cold water spout. Tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away quickly.
She looked right through him as she nodded, and took up the sponge. She began to scrub the dish systematically and quite thoroughly. Satisfied, she rinsed the dish in the other side of the sink, using cold water to increase shine, and winced slightly as the cold water, in a slow stream, numbed her fingers.
She watched with dispassion as she rinsed the dish, knowing she probably had to hurry. Jake had finished setting up the coffee tray, and had gone out of the room, taking the laden tray with him. A hand settled on her shoulder, "Sammy?"
Sam turned off the water, and turned to face her grandmother. She was holding the pie dish in her hand. Gram looked at her face, and the dish. "Oh, Sammy. I didn't think." Of course Gram would know what this set meant to her. It had been her mother's. Now, it was Sam's, and most every holiday, she added something to it. Lenox wasn't inexpensive, and the original owner hadn't been able to complete her set. That was Sam's job, now, and one day, the set would be part of the things that she took with her as she set off into the world, college, and maybe, one day, marriage. In other words, not only had the woman put her mitts on Sam's china, she had done the same to her boyfriend's wife's wedding china. Gram knew how Sam felt about her china set, how for Sam, it symbolized so many of the secret, back of the stove dreams people never voice, but held dear along with their careers and things like that. Sam would sooner smash all of the china, watch all of her past, her future hopes and dreams shatter into a million pieces than see them in that woman's inept mitts.
"It's all right." Sam said, moving around to find a dish towel, "It has to be. He chose." This was Dad's choice. She had to respect that. She had to hold her tongue. If Dad had cared at all for her opinion, he would have warned her, told her, that this woman was coming here.
"I didn't realize it was your pattern until after she'd started using it, and then, what was I to say honey, without being rude? Your father cares very much for her." Gram reminded her.
"He must." She said, offhandedly, "How long?" Sam could not hide the shudder that ran through as she saw the bald sympathy on her Gram's face.
Grace wrapped her in a hug. "Seven weeks. They met at the BLM, and then hit it off at the grocery store, I think."
"Daddy never goes there." Sam protested, burrowing into her grandmother.
"I couldn't..." Gram met Sam's gaze, stepping back. "After you were hurt, I couldn't leave the house. Couldn't do anything. I'm sorry, Sam."
"For?' Sam asked. As far as Sam was concerned, this wasn't Gram's to be sorry for. Sure, she should have said something, warned her somehow, but Sam wasn't about to push away the only support she had left. She felt terribly alone.
"I know you're hurting, and I haven't done anything to make it better. I'm so sorry." Grace clarified. "I'm working on it, honey. I haven't been this depressed since your mother died or we lost PopPop, but...this time, I'm getting some help."
"Gram, it'll be okay." Sam hugged her Grandmother anew, loving her touch. Jake's touch felt like sparkles on her skin, warm and comforting and stomach tugging all at once. Gram's touch was different. It felt like all of her nerve endings were being soothed, cleansed. "Can we talk later? I...can't. Right now." Sam gasped, trying to breathe, "I'm..."
Gram nodded, prompting her to speak. Sam gathered her thoughts, glad that she still had a place within her family somewhere.
The woman burst into the room, saying "Jake said you were making tea. I wondered if you needed help."
Sam turned, wobbling as she moved slowly, "We've got it." The gall of this woman, to assume that Gram needed help in her own kitchen. How lovely it must be, to play house, Sam thought bitterly. What an utter idiot, to insult her grandmother like that. Couldn't she go away and never come back?
Brynna nodded slowly, "Oh. Okay." She brightened, "You washed my dish. Thanks, Sam."
Her dish? Her dish? She had claimed Sam's china for her own? Sam wanted to throw it at her. She had nothing left, not even the foundation on which she had built her most private dreams. Sam could not hold her reply, "Momma always said to wash it pretty quickly."
Brynna colored, "Oh. I see. I didn't..." She looked at Gram, "Well, how about that tea?"
People see me all the time and they just can't remember how to act
Their minds are filled with big ideas,
images and distorted facts
Idiot wind blowing every time your move your mouth
Blowing down the backroads heading south
Idiot wind blowing every time you move your teeth
You're an idiot babe
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe
Idiot Wind, Bob Dylan
She thought this whole thing was her fault. Jake could read it in every word she didn't say. "Sam."
She looked over at him, whispering in difference to a sleeping Regina, "I'm sorry."
"It's my fault." Sam shook her head, "This whole mess, everything. I can't make my thoughts stop. I was born in my parent's bed, you know?"
"I know." Jake promised, "I know." He understood what she was feeling about Aunt Lou. It seemed like Wyatt had forgotten his wife. How he could forget the woman that had given him everything that mattered in this world was unfathomable.
He wasn't angry at Brynna. It wasn't her fault that she had entered into a relationship with Wyatt like she had. Brynna had clearly tried to be nice, tried to be her kindest in a crazy situation. Wyatt was the architect of all of this, though he knew it was easier for Sam to blame Brynna than to blame the man that was responsible.
Sam had been her father's right hand, the sum total of his world for so long. She felt shoved aside, Jake knew, and indignant on behalf of Aunt Lou. Saying goodbye a few hours back had been tense. Jake knew that Wyatt was sorry that he hadn't mentioned Brynna to Sam, but in Jake's eyes, that didn't change anything. He was only sorry he'd gotten caught trying to play the deck from both sides. It appeared Wyatt had plenty of time and energy to spend time with his girlfriend, but not enough to visit his injured daughter. Jake saw how it was, clearly, and he had never been more disappointed in the man he once idolized. He felt crushed. They were done. Done. It was finished, whatever relationship they'd had.
His parents had pulled Sam aside to make sure she was okay when they'd stopped by, once the salient facts had been divulged. His father had always been good at reading Sam, and his mother had filled some of the holes left behind after Aunt Lou died. Sam had spent a lot of time here, growing up. No matter how angry Mom was, she would not walk away from one of her own when they were clearly hurting. It was like there was nothing amiss between them when Mom had hugged them. He didn't know to tell Sam, but they loved her, counted her as theirs. She never needed to worry about not having a place in this world, not as long as he did. Jake felt broken inside. He was broken. He couldn't fix this, he couldn't make Wyatt see what was happening to Sam. He couldn't stop this. He felt like a bronc rider, barely hanging on, waiting for the second he'd fall, and hoping the clowns would save him. He was hopelessly worried. "Sam?"
She turned to him, not bothering to hide the pain that had been inflicted upon her this morning, "Hm?"
Jake voiced his thoughts, "We have a little time left, with Sue. Maybe your father's just...flinging." Jake was hopeful, but he doubted it. "What do we really know?"
She outlined what they knew. They knew that the relationship had been going on since right after the accident, that Wyatt had neglected to mention it, but that Brynna was clearly comfortable with Wyatt. Jake agreed that they were really touchy-feely. He agreed that Wyatt looked like an idiot. Well, Sam said he was an idiot. Jake thought he looked happier than he had any right to be. He didn't have the right to be so happy when Sam was in such a state. She was recovering, but she needed her father. He hadn't been there with her. Instead, he'd been blabbing Sam's private business to some woman. He didn't think Wyatt was an idiot, though insulting someone's reasoning was an insult of the highest order to Sam. You couldn't help what brainpower you had, she said, but you could help what you did with it. Calling someone stupid, in her mind, wasn't about IQ. It was about someone's efforts to observe and make inferences. Jake knew this. She'd called him an idiot a million times, usually followed with the question, "How did you not see that?"
She was incredibly perceptive, and Jake knew that the issues Sam was working through wasn't helping her to see that whatever flavor of the month Wyatt had pulled up, that no one would ever compare to her. She continued, softly, "She used my china."
Jake gripped the steering wheel tighter. He wasn't supposed to care about Sam's collections of dishes. He cared. She took care of those dishes. He remembered Aunt Lou telling her over and over how to care for the dishes, how they would one day be Sam's. He didn't know if Sam remembered, but he did. The china was a summation of Sam's past, and her dreams for the future. He could see why she felt so violated, even on top of Brynna's use of her horses. "I'm sorry."
"I feel like..." She paused, "I've been left behind and forgotten. What would you do, if Luke...?"
Jake paused. He knew what his job would be. He and Quinn would serve as lookouts. Adam would dig the hole, for sure, and Seth would come up with the alibi. The other roles were murky, but not one of them would let their father hurt Mom like that. A child's loyalty, Jake thought, was ultimately their mother's. Maybe he just felt like that because he'd always been close to his mom. If his father acted like a jackass, Jake knew he wouldn't take it well. He knew that he would have to take his mother's side, take care of her. In short, leaving his mother in the dust would be the last thing his father did. Now, if their split was amiable, he could see a different outcome. "I'd probably...I don't know."
"What would Momma want, do you think?" Sam pressed, turning off the radio.
"You're going to have to be the one to make that call, Sam. She would want you to be happy, no matter what." Jake was certain. He didn't know what Aunt Lou would want. It seemed unfathomable that this was happening, that this was even a consideration. How was this happening? Jake would have sworn that Wyatt would have taken up riding sidesaddle before he brought some girl home, never mind a government employee.
"Well, they say everyone's happy in California." Sam joked, "Promise me you won't go insane and take up with some beach comber."
Jake snorted, "I hate the beach."
"I know. You and some beach comber make about much sense as Dad and the woman." Sam said, sadly.
Jake didn't want to say it, but very little about love did make sense. He could see that Wyatt thought he loved Brynna. He didn't know how it would play out. It just hurt, because he woke up this morning, not realizing that everything was going to change in an instant, and it had. He had thought that the accident had taught him that, but Jake guessed it wasn't enough. The lesson hit him over the head again and again. This time, though, he hoped he'd learned it. Another change would probably kill him.
Something came calling
And I knew this time I had to go
California
I don't even know you
And you've taken me away from home
Feeling's running straight to my bones
Someday I'll be coming home
Someday I'll be coming home
With a cast iron soul
California (Cast Iron Soul), Jamestown Revival
Hey! Some notes. Yeah. This was a tough one, folks. Isn't it amazing and awful how your day can be going so well, and then, suddenly, you're eating dirt? Hence, That Buckin' Song.
All I've got to ask is that you think about POV. Think about Sam's feelings, and Wyatt's feelings, all wrapped up in the same events. Change is a process, and some of us aren't very good at it. Please PM with questions, comments, or concerns. The story might speed up a bit in the coming chapters, as there's lots to cover.
Guest: Of course you do! And also, thank you for the compliment of the dynamics.
I'm super behind on PMs, but Jump4Life encouraged me to post this, and so I am.
The title is a Lee Ann Womack song.