A/N: Thanks to my betas skzb, sallylovelinus and Catsluver. Need I say it? You guys rock!
Thanks to all of you who reviewed as guests and to everyone who is still reading. I know some of you are getting frustrated with TJ. You'll see some changes in her this chapter and even more in upcoming chapters, so I hope you don't give up on her yet! :)
Chapter 19
TJ felt like a cartoon character, like her eyes were about to bug out of her head at the sight of Sam sitting in the cab of the tractor where her dad was supposed to be.
The corners of Sam's mouth curved upward, and his eyes on her were bold and held a hint of amusement. "You brought me iced tea?" The look on his face said he knew the tea wasn't intended for him.
She looked at the glass jar in her hand like she'd never seen it before. "I, um, thought you were my dad," she muttered. She craned her neck and frowned up at him. "How did you..." She waved her hand, indicating the tractor.
He held onto the steering wheel with one hand and bent over. A minute later, he came up with the portable hand controls he'd used in her car. He showed the device to her and quirked his brows.
"Oh."
"I was bush-hogging for your dad. Fern made him stay in bed this morning because of his cold, so I told him I'd help out."
"Oh." She paused. "So, um, how are you gonna get down from there?"
He smiled, his eyes following a motion behind her. "I'll show you."
She looked over her shoulder and saw that Fern was pushing his wheelchair down the ramp leading from the back porch. TJ turned back to him. He showed her his cell phone, and she assumed that he had called Fern to let her know he was there and ready for his chair.
"Here you go, hon," said Fern, pushing the chair to where it was underneath where Sam was sitting several feet above. She rubbed her hands on her apron and looked harried. "I need to get back to them babies. Robby was startin' to fuss. I'll have lunch ready directly."
"No hurry about lunch," Sam replied.
"I'll come help you in a minute, Mama," TJ offered.
Fern was already almost through the kitchen door and waved a hand absently. "All right, sugar," she said, letting the screen door snick shut behind her. Fern certainly didn't seem to have any worries that Sam would somehow get himself back into his chair.
TJ arched a brow at Sam, who was, of course, still perched up high in the cab of the tractor. How in the hell was he gonna get down from there?
"Well?" she drawled.
He grabbed the steering wheel and carefully lowered himself down to the floor of the cab, then grabbed the seat cushion that TJ hadn't even realized he'd been sitting on and let it fall several feet below to his chair. Using the steps on the side of the tractor that led up to the cab as shallow ledges, he gingerly lowered his butt to each one, his long legs dangling down, his upper body muscles straining. His brow was creased in concentration.
TJ tensed, expecting him to fall any second, but he didn't.
When he reached the running board of the tractor that was almost even with his chair, he rested there for a second and fixed his seat cushion where it fit in the seat of his chair properly. Then, bracing one hand in between the gigantic treads of the back tire of the tractor and one hand on the frame of his chair, he transferred his body to the chair and then brushed his hands together like he was trying to get dirt off of them.
The whole process, getting from the cab of the tractor to his chair, hadn't taken but a minute and was an impressive feat of strength and adaptation.
TJ was amazed.
Once he was settled in his chair and he'd placed his Converse-clad feet on the footplate, he wheeled over to her and pried the Mason jar of iced tea from her hand. The fleeting touch of his fingers on her skin was warm in contrast to the cold, wet glass of the jar and sent a surge of something pleasant through her.
He took a long swig of the tea, his Adam's apple bobbing in a way that was unexpectedly sexy, and then looked up at her, squinting against the sun. He grinned, and his white teeth and cocky dimples made her stomach do a wild dance. "If you ever wake up before noon sometime, I'll show you how I get in the tractor."
Then he wedged the jar of tea between his legs and pushed himself toward the house, leaving TJ staring after him.
XXXXXXXX
She sat on the stairs of the back porch, staring at the unlaced running shoes on her feet, feeling utterly dejected.
It was a breezy summer evening, and TJ wanted to take a walk to clear her head. She was more confused than ever. She felt betrayed by Jeremy for something he did six years ago that she didn't remember. Was there a statute of limitations on things like that? What if she hadn't lost her memory? Would she be over it by now? Would she still feel so hurt? She was profoundly disillusioned and angry at herself for being so stupid. She should have known better.
"You've grown into a beautiful girl, Nelly. Don't ever believe anything else," he'd said. "I'll spend the rest of my life making you happy if you let me. I'll never hurt you again."
Pretty words. But, God help her, she wanted to believe him. He seemed so sincere, and there was no doubt he was more mature than the horny, teenage Jeremy of six years ago—well, except for the pot-smoking incident. That didn't change the fact that he had completely humiliated her and made her feel cheap. She'd foolishly lost her virginity to him. It had meant everything to her and nothing to him. And, idiot that she was, she still had feelings for him, even after everything. She wished she could turn them off like a faucet, that they would just go away along with the pain.
Then there was Sam. He made her heart race one minute and made her want to grit her teeth and clench her fists in vexation the next.
She wanted to get away from both Jeremy and Sam, needed time to think and sort out her feelings. A walk would have been a start. The only problem was, she couldn't remember how to tie her fucking shoelaces.
She continued to stare at the untied laces, fighting a rush of helplessness and panic. She could do this. She wasn't a damn three-year-old. She could tie her own shoes. Except that she couldn't. She picked up the laces, thinking that maybe it would just come to her like other things did, that she would just know how to do it, but it didn't happen.
Elbows on her thighs, she rested her head in her hands, scrunching her fingers in her hair and not caring if it all fell out of her ponytail. Tears clogged her throat and trailed down her cheeks, and she finally gave in and let herself cry. Her life was so fucked up. Why had this happened to her, and what the hell was she supposed to do about it?
"Hey," said a husky voice.
She saw the front caster and footplate of Sam's wheelchair, along with his black Converse sneakers, in her peripheral vision. Great. He would show up at one of the most embarrassing, pathetic moments of her life—that she could remember, at least. She closed her eyes and sniffed. "Go away."
She heard the cooing sound of a baby and looked up to see that both of the twins were secured to Sam's chest in the baby sling. Both were wide-eyed and seemed perfectly content, and the little girl was blowing bubbles in her own slobber. Gross.
Well, actually, it wasn't gross. The whole picture of Sam and the babies was pretty cute, but TJ was in no mood for them.
"So, uh, you going somewhere?"
"No," she answered defensively.
"You're just sitting here staring at your shoes?"
Her tone was tart. "Yes, Sam. I'm sittin' here starin' at my fuckin' shoes. You got a problem with that?"
He didn't say anything, just furrowed his brow and looked at her with solicitous concern.
Her throat constricted and she looked away. He was always so nice, and, this time, he got through her defenses. When she tried to speak, her voice went up an octave and came out shaky through a fresh batch of tears. "I..." She swallowed hard. "I can't tie my shoes."
There was a beat of silence, and then, before she really knew what was going on, one of Sam's palms was flat on the gray wooden planks of the porch, and the other was gripping the frame of his chair. He dipped his head and lifted his butt in the air, then carefully lowered himself down to the porch, straightening his legs and then scooting himself next to her. Once he was sitting next to her, he used his hands to move his legs so that his feet were on the step below hers, since his legs were longer.
The babies seemed unfazed by the fact that they had been briefly upside down during Sam's acrobatic maneuver to get to the floor and were still wrapped securely in the sling. The boy seemed fascinated by the bright mango color of TJ's T-shirt that had suddenly appeared next to him.
TJ sniffed, wiped her nose and cheeks, and gave Sam a wry look, eyeing the babies in the "pouch." "You're like a kangaroo."
He gave a small laugh, and TJ found the rumbling sound of it hypnotic. She tore her eyes away from his dimples and stared out at the vast backyard, green pasture, and mountains beyond. The sun was starting to go down, and it cast an ethereal orange glow over the scene. "Is there anything you can't climb in or out of?"
He smiled faintly. "Uh...yeah. But less than you might think."
The little girl began to fuss at her confinement, and Sam pulled her out of her cocoon, which made the whole sling ensemble off balance. "Uh, can you—do you mind holding her? I need to get Robby out, but it's hard for me to do that with one baby already in my lap."
TJ took the little girl from him and held her so that she was sitting up at arm's length on TJ's lap. The baby had on a pink, footed onesie that accentuated her little round belly. The onesie had a bumble bee print on it, and the feet of the garment were a bigger version of the bee's smiling face. The baby stared back at TJ with big, dark-brown eyes that were almost certainly never going to be any other color.
TJ remembered Sam's words. "She has your eyes."
He was right. There was no mistaking the resemblance, and it hammered home the fact that the baby she was holding was not someone else's. Despite herself, TJ was curious. "Can she—can she see my face?"
"I think so," Sam said as he got the little boy free of the sling and sitting sideways on his lap. The little boy was still staring at TJ's shirt. "Babies in general start to see faces around three months of age, and Robby and Sami Joy are three months when you adjust their age."
TJ frowned. "So, um, explain the age thing to me again."
"Well, technically, they're six and a half months old, if you go by the day they were born, which, as you know, was New Year's Day. But, when they were in the NICU, they were still considered to be like fetuses and continued to develop like fetuses. If you adjust their age, they would have been full term on April 30th, so that's what we go by. In that case, developmentally and sizewise, they're the equivalent of three-month-olds."
"Oh." She looked at the little girl in her lap and dabbed away a bit of slobber from the girl's mouth, then wiped the slobber on her jeans. "So, um, are they gonna be okay?"
Sam nodded. "So far, they're like the poster children for micropreemies. They were born at twenty-three weeks, which can and usually does cause a lot of complications. They had a rocky start, and it's a miracle they even survived. They both had to have heart surgery to repair holes in their hearts, and Robby had to have surgery on his eyes to save his sight, but they're strong and healthy now. We're lucky."
Her heart clenched at the thought of these sweet little babies having to go through major surgery. She looked at the baby boy, who was still staring at her shirt and sucking on his fist. "He can see okay?"
Sam's brow creased a little. "Yeah. When he's older, they'll do more tests on him. He responds to color and other visual stimulation normally so far. He may need glasses, but the pediatric ophthalmologist said to wait for now."
TJ let out a relieved breath. "All that must have been difficult to deal with. You must have been so worried, you know, when they had to have the surgeries and stuff."
His expression clouded. "It was a difficult time." He lifted the boy and kissed the tuft of dark hair on top of the baby's head, closing his eyes as if drinking in the scent of it. "I hurt a lot of people."
She couldn't imagine ever-so-polite Sam hurting anyone. "What do you mean?"
He seemed to lose his balance for a second and used a lightning quick hand to brace himself, still holding the boy steady by the material of the back of the baby's onesie with one hand. "I, uh, wasn't exactly father of the year after the twins were born. I kind of pretended they didn't exist. Your parents and Dean pretty much dealt with them and made decisions for their care."
Her eyes widened. "You, the guy my parents think can do no wrong. You pretended they didn't exist?" It was hard to believe because he was such a good dad now.
He gazed at her intently. "I'm not perfect, TJ. I'm lucky your parents even speak to me after some of the things I said about the twins...and about you."
She frowned. "What did you say?"
He gave a pained laugh and ran a hand through his long hair. "Oh, God. You don't wanna know. I kind of checked out for a while. Everything was so devastating, I guess I sort of shut down my emotions. I thought you were as good as dead and so were the twins, so that's pretty much how I acted, like all of you were already gone. I was a total dick."
She found that hard to believe.
"I didn't even name them," he said.
"You didn't?"
He looked regretful. "No."
She raised her brows. "I didn't pick those names, you know, before I went into the coma, did I?" She couldn't imagine that she had, but, half the time, nothing these days was what she would expect—especially when it came to anything within the last six years. Other TJ was someone whose actions she couldn't predict.
"Uh, no," he said with a small smile. "You didn't name them, either. My brother Dean did, and I think Fern and Heather helped."
"Heather...Dean's girlfriend?"
He nodded. "She's a close friend."
"The redhead?"
He looked hopeful.
She rolled her eyes. "I've seen her in pictures on my phone, along with pictures of Dean. Power of deduction."
He looked disappointed, and it irritated her. "It's not gonna come back," she snapped. "My memory is gone. It's like none of it—my life with you, college, being pregnant—ever happened."
He looked at her like he wasn't sure what brought on her ire.
"Stop getting your hopes up that it's gonna come back," she explained. "Stop getting that kicked-puppy look on your face every time you realize that I haven't remembered something. It makes me feel...defective."
There was a tick in his jaw and he stared out at the yard. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I did that."
They sat in an uneasy quiet after that and TJ studied the baby in her lap—Sami Joy. She supposed she should start thinking of the twins by their names. It wasn't like she could change their names, unless she maybe went to court or something.
Sami Joy was blowing little bubbles in her slobber again, and when she moved her mouth, there was a hint of dimples like her daddy and brother. She was beautiful and adorable. TJ had the strong urge to hug the baby close to her chest and kiss her but resisted. "So," she asked, breaking the silence, "do you have blonds in your family?"
Sam looked taken off guard, like his thoughts had been far away. "What?"
She cleared her throat, forcing out the name. "Sami...Joy's hair." She nodded toward the baby's hair, running a hand over the downy blond locks on the baby's head.
His lips curved in amusement. "It's killing you to say that name, isn't it?"
She poked her tongue into her cheek, mouth quirking. "Yeah. I'm not too thrilled about the 'Joy' part."
He ducked his head almost shyly, still amused. "I told Dean you would hate it. I hate the 'Sami.'
She shrugged. "That part I don't mind."
"Yeah?" he asked, arching a brow. "Well, I don't think the 'Joy' is so bad."
She smiled a little.
"To answer your question, my mother was a blond and so is Dean, but it seems like his has gotten darker over the years."
For the kabillionth time in her life, TJ wondered about her biological family. Were there any blonds on her side? She turned her attention back to Sami Joy and gave in to her earlier urge. She held the baby closer, nuzzling her lips on the soft skin of the baby's forehead. She loved the little noises Sami Joy made, the little faint grunts and even the sound of her breathing.
The screen door of the kitchen snicked behind them, and TJ looked over her shoulder to see Fern starting toward them. Fern acted like it was nothing out of the ordinary that TJ was holding Sami Joy, but there was a pleased twinkle in her eye as she looked at Sam, and something unspoken passed between them.
TJ covertly rolled her eyes.
Fern spoke to Sam. "You want me to take 'em and start getting 'em ready for bed, hon?"
"Uh, yeah. They'll probably get cranky soon. I'll come help you."
"No, no," Fern protested. "Vern'll help me."
"You sure?" queried Sam, looking up at her.
"I'm sure."
"Thanks."
Fern nodded, bending down and taking Robby from Sam. TJ stood up and handed over Sami Joy, and Fern held one baby in the crook of each of her small arms. The twins looked a lot bigger in Fern's arms than they did in Sam's. There was a smile of pure bliss on Fern's face, leaving no doubt how much she loved her grandbabies.
Vern appeared at the door, chewing on a toothpick. He nodded a greeting in the direction of Sam and TJ and held the door open for Fern. The door snicked behind them, and TJ was left alone again with Sam. She was towering over him, still standing, and she wondered why she didn't excuse herself and head back into the house with her parents—but she didn't.
He took off the two pieces of black fabric from the baby sling that were hanging on him loosely and set them aside. Then he eyed her untied laces. "So, uh, you can't remember how to tie your shoes?"
She stiffened and felt her ears grow warm, instantly humiliated at the reminder.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about." He paused, craning his neck to look up at her. "Would you—do you want me to show you how?"
"No," she answered abruptly.
He nodded, pursing his lips, and squinted toward the setting sun.
After a tense moment, not sure of what the hell she was doing or why, she sat next to him and let out a long sigh. "Okay. So show me."
"I think it'll make more sense if I show you from your perspective."
"What do you mean?"
He tugged on the denim of each of his legs, spreading them farther apart. "Come sit in front of me."
She was wary at the thought of being so close to him, but she moved to where he indicated, sitting on the step below him between his legs.
"Okay. Now put your foot up to where I can reach it."
She did as he said, pulling her foot up to where it was on the same step, her knee nearly even with her chin. She felt his arms come around her, his face next to hers. She could feel his warm breath on her cheek, and the smell of his breath wasn't unpleasant. It was nondescript, like bottled water.
He hesitated, tensing almost imperceptibly, and then cleared his throat. "So, the first thing you're gonna do is grab each lace and pull them tight so that your shoe won't be too loose."
His voice vibrated in her ear, causing a slight buzz along her spine.
"Then you're gonna cross the right and left lace, like this," he said, doing so as he spoke.
She watched his long, tapered fingers at work.
"Then you're gonna make a bunny ear with one of the laces, like this," he demonstrated.
She smiled at his choice of words. "Bunny ear?"
There was a flash of white teeth and a dimple. "I guess I've been hanging out with the babies too much," he said.
She didn't know why, but that made her suddenly feel warm and flushed.
"Okay. So now you're gonna loop your other lace around the bunny ear and then pull it through the hole, like this"—again, he demonstrated—"and then pull it tight." He pulled his hands away and rested his chin on her shoulder. "Then you're good to go."
She sat there, not sure of how much of the shoe-tying lesson had actually sunk in. His closeness was so distracting.
"Okay," he said, raising his chin from her shoulder. "Now it's your turn."
She didn't want to try tying the laces in front of him. What if she couldn't do it? She couldn't believe this was happening, that she couldn't remember how to do such a simple thing.
He seemed to sense her reluctance. "Just try it, Teej," he said softly. "It's no big deal if you don't get it on the first try. I'll help you."
She switched feet, pulling her other leg up, and he switched sides, too, warming the other side of her cheek with his breath, his hands braced on the top step. Mercy, he made it hard to concentrate.
She grabbed the laces like he'd shown her, pulling them tightly, then crossed them over each other. She could feel Sam tense behind her and knew he was nervous for her, that he wanted her to succeed.
She made the bunny ear—because how could she forget that part?—and then couldn't remember what she was supposed to do next. It was crazy that she'd forgotten how to tie her shoe, and she felt so stupid.
"Just wrap the other lace around and pull it through," he coaxed.
She tried but made a mess of it. "Fuck!" She dropped her head in her hands.
"Just try it again." He was annoyingly patient.
"I can't."
"Yes, you can."
It was so frustrating and embarrassing. She felt her throat tighten and the sting of more tears. "This sucks."
"Just give it another try. I'll show you again." He did, the whole time speaking into her ear using the same velvety voice he used when he was talking to Faye the cow.
His voice eased some of TJ's dismay, and she mused that she and Faye apparently had the same reaction to him. She wondered if her boobs would start squirting out milk soon.
When he was done with the second demonstration, he untied her shoe and held out the laces for her. She sighed and began again. When she got to the bunny-ear part, she wrapped the other lace around without trying to overthink it, pulled the loop through the hole she'd made, and tightened it into a bow. Success. She huffed out a triumphant breath.
"Good. You did it," he purred into her ear, a smile in his voice.
She untied the shoe and tied it again, just to make sure she could. And then she did it again and again.
"I think you've got it," he said, a hint of wry amusement in his tone.
She turned her face toward his cheek, getting a potent whiff of his hair and skin. Lord have mercy, he smelled fresh and clean, like aftershave and his shampoo that had freaked her out—and very male. She had the almost overpowering urge to kiss him. On his neck. In the curve of his neck just under his ear. The urge was so strong she felt a little weak and shaky.
He turned his face toward her and brushed his lips on the corner of her mouth. She felt a surge of electricity and her heart went crazy, pumping her blood through her body at breakneck speed. She panicked, disturbed by her reaction to him, and turned her face away, feeling breathless. "What..." Her voice sounded weird and thready, and she cleared her throat and forced herself to sound strong. "What are you doing?"
"Kissing my wife," he said into the curve of her neck, leaving little nibbles in his wake.
She tore herself away from him and jumped up, facing him and suddenly furious. "Don't touch me! I don't even know you!"
He closed his eyes and grimaced, almost like he was in pain. He had his hands braced on the top step again, shoulders rigid, and he looked so tortured and handsome with his long hair and soulful face. For a second, she felt like she was looking at some character from a Gothic novel.
"I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't sound very sincere. He sounded restrained, like he was holding back a powerful emotion.
She was panting, her body shaking, her fists clenched. "I can't—" She shook her head, fighting tears. She didn't know whether she was mad at him for taking advantage of the situation or herself for wanting him to. "I don't know you," she said again.
His eyes pinned her in place, dark and brooding. "Your body knows me."
"Screw you." She brushed past him as she stalked up the steps, half expecting him to try and stop her, but he didn't. She left him sitting there—a lone, shadowy figure against the setting sun.
XXXXXXXX
Sam stared at the sunset without really seeing it, trying to keep his temper and his body under control. Every muscle, every cell ached for TJ. Her skin was so soft, her body so warm, and the scent of her—God. He loved her so much. It had been so long since he'd been able to touch her and kiss her like that, and he'd lost himself in the euphoria of it, of the feel of his lips brushing against her skin.
This evening was the first real conversation he'd had with her since she'd woken up from the coma, and he'd blown it. He was pissed at himself for losing control, and he was frustrated with her, too.
She'd wanted him to touch her, at least for that fleeting moment. He knew she did—he'd sensed it and felt her holding back—because he knew her. He should have let her make the first move. She'd been so close to doing so, but he'd jumped the gun like some geeky adolescent.
He'd be a liar if he said that her calling him a cripple that first night she was home hadn't hurt—and he was furious when he found out about her lunch with Jeremy—but he hadn't said anything. It was clear that the more Fern and Vern or Sam pushed TJ to accept him and the twins, the more resistant and rebellious she became; so he'd been trying to give her space, especially since he'd been such an idiot and forbidden her to see Jeremy. He'd been angry when he said it, but he should have known that it wouldn't go down well with her, that it would only make things worse.
He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, feeling disheartened. He was about to get back in his chair and go see if Fern and Vern needed any help with the twins, when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and saw that it was Dean. "Hey."
"What's wrong?" Dean barked.
Sam rolled his eyes at his brother's perceptiveness. "Nothing."
"Yeah, right. What's wrong?"
Sam sighed, knowing Dean wouldn't let it go. "TJ couldn't remember how to tie her shoes."
"Oh, my God!" Dean said with feigned drama. "That's—that's friggin' horrible!"
"Don't be a jerk. It was horrible for her. She was really upset and discouraged by it."
"She still being a bitch?"
"Her world has been turned upside down, Dean," Sam defended. He was irritated by Dean's callousness. "She needs time. She hasn't even been home two weeks yet."
"Huh," Dean mused. "Yeah. I guess it's no worse than you were when you woke up paralyzed. It took you a lot longer than a couple of weeks to finally suck it up and get on with life. And don't even get me started on what you were like after the twins were born. You were a major dickbag."
"Thanks for the reminder," Sam said sarcastically.
"Maybe we should have Bobby punch her in the jaw," Dean suggested. "It worked for you."
Sam snorted. "I'd rather have him punch Jeremy in the jaw."
"Right. Sounds like a plan. I'm sure Bobby wouldn't mind."
"Probably not."
Dean gave a faint chuckle.
"Dean, I..." Sam hesitated.
"What?"
Sam let out a long breath. "I fucked up. I was showing TJ how to tie her shoes, and we were really close to each other, and I kissed her—sort of. It was mostly on her neck." He cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward for talking about this with Dean. "I mean, it wasn't a real kiss, but it freaked her out and pissed her off. I swear though, at least for a second, she wanted me to kiss her."
"Of course she did. You're a stud, Sammy. If she was attracted to you before, why wouldn't she be now?"
"Yeah, well, I probably just set myself way back with her. To her, it's like some stranger just tried to feel her up."
"Look, I don't care if she doesn't remember you. You're the same guy she fell in love with the first time. There's no reason she won't again. Just keep pouring on that socially-inept charm of yours and she'll be putty in your hands."
Sam ignored Dean's ribbing. "Jeremy wasn't in the picture before."
"Dude, he's not a threat. I met him. I knew from the get-go that he was a douche."
Another eye roll. "No, you didn't. You liked him."
"If I'd known he was gonna try to move in on my brother's wife and take advantage of the fact that she has amnesia from a fuckin' stroke, I wouldn't have."
"Right."
"The point is, she'll eventually see that he's a douche, too. Like you said, she hasn't been home very long. Give her time to adjust and give Jeremy enough rope to hang himself. She'll come around. And don't beat yourself up about trying to kiss her, Sam. You love her. She's your wife."
"Yeah." Sam closed his eyes for a second, feeling a wave of intense longing for TJ. "So, how's Heather?" he asked, changing the subject.
"How are Sami Joy and Robby?"
"That bad, huh?" said Sam, not answering Dean's question. "Heather's still hell-bent on hunting?"
"How are Sami Joy and Robby?" Dean repeated pointedly.
Sam shook his head and let the subject of Heather drop, feeling bad that things weren't going well for Dean in that department. He talked to Dean once or twice a week and sent him videos and pictures of the twins often, so it wasn't like there was anything that Dean didn't already know about his niece and nephew, but Sam told him about them anyway—and when the conversation ended several minutes later, Sam felt better and was glad that his brother had called.
XXXXXXXX
"Rise and shine, girl," said Fern. She was ruthlessly shaking TJ awake.
TJ pulled the pillow over her head and groaned.
"No more sleeping in. You and I are goin' for a walk."
"God Almighty, Mama. What time is it?"
Fern jerked the pillow off TJ's head and pulled back the covers, letting in the morning chill. "It's six-fifteen in the morning. Come on. We're gonna take a walk and get some fresh air."
TJ shivered and curled into a ball. "Why can't we go later?"
"Because unlike some people I know, I've got seventeen bazillion things to do today and I can't wait until noon for you to wake up."
"I've never slept until noon," TJ groused.
"Eleven is close enough to split a hair," Fern said dryly. "Now, come on."
TJ sighed with annoyance and then got out of bed, doing as her mother told her. She threw her hair in a ponytail and got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. She fought a blush as she expertly tied her running shoes, trying not to remember Sam's lesson last night—or the feel of his arms around her, or his ever-so-light lips kissing the corner of her mouth and trailing kisses along her neck.
She tried to drum up a decent amount of righteous, indignant anger that he'd taken advantage of the situation, that he had no right to be so intimate with her because he was still a stranger to her, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't get those haunting, intense eyes of his out of her head. She tried thinking of Jeremy, but his face kept morphing into Sam's.
She trudged to the kitchen and started brewing herself a cup of hot Earl Grey tea with the intention of taking the mug with her on the walk.
Her dad was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a newspaper. "Well, look who the cat dragged in." He was entirely too chipper.
TJ, not a morning person in the best of times, only grunted grumpily in reply.
Vern made a dramatic sweeping motion with his hand. "Griselda the Grunch, in the flesh."
She glared at him, and he chuckled with twinkling light-blue eyes, then went back to his paper.
Fern came in carrying a twin in each arm. She had dressed them in little tiny jeans, soft tiny tennis shoes, and fleecy jackets—one pink and one blue—since there was a chill in the morning air. The temperature had been milder than usual because of all the rain they'd been getting, although things had dried out since last week.
Fern eyed the mug in TJ's hand. "Uh-uh. You can't take that with you. You're gonna carry one of the twins."
TJ frowned. "No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"Don't you have a stroller for them?"
Fern nodded. "We have a jogging stroller, but they can't sit up in it."
"Well, can't you just strap them in?"
Fern huffed in exasperation. "They're still too little. The harness is too loose and won't keep them secure. Now, put that mug down and take one of these babies. Your pick."
TJ wanted to be pissed, but the babies looked so cute in Fern's arms that the sight of them defused her annoyance. She chose Robby, since she'd held Sami Joy last night, and reached out to him. His eyes locked onto her face, much like they had when she'd held him the day she came home from the hospital. His eyes were much lighter than Sami Joy's, and TJ was momentarily lost in them. He smiled a gummy smile at her, dimples enchanting her, and before she really realized what she was doing, she took him from Fern and was kissing his cheek.
He loved it and kicked his little legs in delight. He smelled so good, like Baby Magic body wash and the special baby detergent that TJ used to wash his and Sami Joy's clothes.
TJ was always amazed at how light the babies were, but Robby was solid and compact—all chubby arms and legs with round, diapered bottom and belly. Fern was holding Sami Joy facing outward. Sami Joy's little bottom was resting on Fern's arm and Fern's other hand was securely across the baby's chest.
TJ tried to hold Robby the same way, but he had no interest in the outside world. He fussed, and when she moved him up and snuggled him on her shoulder, he quieted and seemed content.
Fern pressed her lips together and shared a look with Vern, clearly holding in a smile. Then she was all business. "All right. Let's get goin'. I don't have all day."
When they were outside, Fern seemed even more in a hurry, walking so fast TJ had a hard time keeping up, even though her legs were much longer. So much for a leisurely stroll. TJ figured they would head for the road, but Fern took off across the grass, heading in the direction of the pond.
After walking a short distance, they headed uphill, and it didn't take long for TJ's out-of-shape body to get winded. "Lord, Mama, slow down. It's not a race."
Fern had no mercy. "No pain, no gain. You got to build up your stamina."
TJ bristled, and when they crested the hill they were on, she'd had enough. "Mama! I can't—"
"Shhh!" Fern was looking over her shoulder at TJ, an urgent frown on her face. "Okay. We'll stop here." Her voice was hushed.
TJ was surprised at Fern's abrupt change of heart and shook her head in confusion. Sometimes her mother was an enigma. TJ sat down under a nearby catalpa tree to catch her breath and shifted Robby to her other shoulder. Fern sat next to her and lifted Sami Joy to where the baby's mini Nike tennis shoes danced on Fern's thighs. Sami Joy loved the chance to use her legs and cooed and smiled.
TJ wiped sweat off her brow and wished she had a drink of water. She instinctively looked toward the nearest source of water—the distant pond. It was then that she saw Sam. He was lying on his stomach, a long, narrow blue mat underneath him, long legs stretched out and clad in gray sweatpants. His upper body was bare, and his chiseled muscles glistened in the rising sun. It was a stunning picture—Sam in the foreground with the mirror-like pond reflecting the sunrise over the mountains in the background. Rocket completed the scene, faithfully lying a few feet from Sam with his head on his paws.
Sam's palms were flat on the mat, and he lifted his upper body gracefully into something that started out as a pushup but morphed into something more erect. His head was arched back, throat exposed, like he was seeking the sun. After holding the pose for a minute or two, he flowed into another pose and then to another, sometimes using his hands to adjust his legs into various positions. There seemed to be some kind of order to it, and then he ended up on his stomach again and started the whole series of poses over from the beginning.
His body was gorgeous—lithe and sinewy despite the fact that he was so big—and he moved like a dancer. The fact that he couldn't use his legs was irrelevant. TJ's eyes were glued to him, and she was all but drooling, her blood thrumming inside her.
Robby, who was still cuddled on TJ's shoulder, grew restless, breaking her trance. She adjusted him so that he was sitting on her lap where he could look around, and he seemed satisfied.
TJ cleared her throat, her gaze traveling unwillingly back to Sam in the distance. She tried to keep her tone casual. "What—what's he doing, some kind of Tai Chi or something?"
"Yoga," answered Fern. She was watching Sam and turned her head to look at TJ. "You're the one that got him into it."
TJ was surprised. "I did?"
Fern nodded and focused back on Sam. "It had a profound effect on him. He told me it was one of the things that helped him deal with his paralysis. It helped him accept his body the way it is now."
TJ was stunned. It never failed to flummox her, learning these things Other TJ did. TJ barely even knew what yoga was. It wasn't like anyone in Moss Fork did it. The thought was laughable. She frowned. "How did he get to the pond?"
"His wheelchair," said Fern, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
TJ saw his chair then, sitting not far from his mat. She'd been so focused on him that she hadn't noticed it. "Oh."
"It's quite a workout for him, wheeling over the grass and the hill. It never ceases to amaze me how strong he is."
As if to reiterate Fern's point, Sam went into a handstand, displaying exceptional balance and strength. His legs were hanging down and he was sort of in a jackknife position, his bare feet brushing the mat. Every muscle in his upper body seemed to be straining to its limit.
"Mercy," said Fern with admiration. "Would you look at that."
It hit TJ then that bringing her here was yet another ploy by her mother to show how great Sam was, and TJ was suddenly angry. "You knew he would be out here. That's why you made me get up so goldang early."
Fern was still watching Sam. "Mm-hm," she agreed, unrepentant. "He's out here almost every day at this time, since he gets up so early with the twins. He feeds them breakfast and then goes out to do his exercising."
"Dammit, Mama," TJ said with heat. "Stop forcing him on me. You can't make me love him."
"Shh. Keep your voice down," chided Fern. Rocket had lifted his head and pricked his ears, looking in their direction. "We don't want Sam to see us. It'll interrupt his meditation."
TJ's eyes widened in aggravation. "His medi—I don't care about his meditation," she hissed. "Did you hear what I said? You can't make me fall in love with him."
"No. I figure he'll do that all on his own," Fern said matter-of-factly.
TJ's anger escalated.
"I'm just enjoying the scenery," said Fern, ignoring TJ's fury, "and I thought you might like it, too."
"Well, you thought wrong." TJ held Robby more securely and heaved herself up to a stand. "I'm goin' back to the house."
"All right, hon." Fern hadn't taken her eyes off of Sam, and a lascivious smile played across her lips. "I think I'll stay another minute."
TJ huffed. "That's disgusting, Mama. He's your son-in-law."
"Lucky me."
"Good Lord," said TJ, making a show of being scandalized and repulsed. Then she stalked off—but not before sneaking one last look at Sam.
XXXXXXXX
The text alert on TJ's phone pinged, and she grabbed it from her nightstand. The text was from Jeremy.
"Meet me at the pond. Please, Nelly."
Her heart lurched. It was ten-thirty at night. She had refused Jeremy's other recent pleas for clandestine meetings because she was still hurt and upset with him over the big revelation that he'd used her all those years ago. She hadn't returned any of his phone calls or texts.
Her phone pinged again. "PLEASE."
She started to turn her phone off when another text quickly followed the last. "We need to talk."
She sighed. Truth be told, she missed talking to him, and she wondered what he had to say. It was a bad idea, she knew. He would probably sweet talk her and have her eating out of the palm of his hand, and she wasn't ready to forgive him just yet.
Against her better judgment, she texted him back. "Be there in 15."
She scrambled out of her pajamas into some jeans and flip-flops, then snuck out of the house. When she got to the pond, Jeremy's ATV was parked nearby and he was playing his guitar. The moon was young, but it was bright enough in the clear country sky to still give off plenty of light, illuminating him. He looked so handsome, like some kind of an apparition—too good to be true. The moonlight reflected off the still waters of the pond, and she knew that his beautiful eyes would match it, that they would be silvery like the water.
She stood and watched him, listening to the haunting melody he played and the gentle, silky sound of his voice. When he was done, she said, "Is that something you wrote?"
He looked up from his guitar and smiled a relieved, welcoming smile that made her heart leap. "Hey, Nelly," he purred.
"Hey," she replied shortly, remembering that she was mad at him.
His manner was suddenly humble. "Thank you for comin'."
She shrugged noncommittally.
He patted the grass, like he wanted her to sit beside him, but she remained standing, arms folded over her chest.
"You have every right to be angry with me." He bowed his head, obviously contrite. "Please," he said, "come talk to me. I can't stand this, Nelly." There was a quiet plea in his voice that reached out to her.
She let out a long sigh and sat down beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. Sure enough, now that she was close to him, she could see that his eyes were dark and silvery in the moonlight. She tried to focus on them, tried to remember how the sight of them used to make her blood sing, but she couldn't feel it. A pair of hazel eyes kept clouding her memory.
Jeremy idly strummed the tune he'd been playing, but he hadn't taken his gaze from her.
"Is that something you wrote?" she asked again.
"Yeah. You like it?"
She nodded. "It's kindly sad," she drawled, not caring if saying "kindly" instead of "kind of" made her sound like a hillbilly. There was no need to put on airs around Jeremy. They were cut from the same cloth.
He looked down at his guitar. "Yeah. It is sad."
She listened for a while as he played, getting the impression that his soul was in the song. It sounded so forlorn and lonely.
She couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. She was such a sucker. "What's wrong, Jer?"
"What's right?" he asked, using the words she'd used when they had lunch together.
She had an urge to touch him, to comfort him somehow, but refrained, hugging her knees tighter instead.
"My mama is batshit crazy, I'm stuck in a boring job crunching numbers instead of playing music like I've dreamed of all my life, and I deeply hurt my best friend and the only girl I've ever loved—who, incidentally, is married to another guy." His eyes searched hers. "How did things get so fucked up, Nelly?"
A knot stuck in her throat, and she focused on the moon, letting its light burn into her eyes. Then she shrugged. "You think this is what makes people get old, being stuck in a life that they didn't choose? I mean, maybe it's our hearts that get old way before our bodies ever do—aching over things that should have happened but didn't, dreams that never got fulfilled."
His smile was mournful. "That's pretty profound of you, Nelly." He strummed a chord on his guitar. "Maybe we'll make a songwriter out of you, yet."
She snorted and braced her hands on the ground. "I'm no songwriter. I'm a scientist. That's all I've ever wanted to be."
He nodded and set his guitar down, then ran his fingers over the soft blades of grass, finally letting his hand rest on top of hers. She stiffened, and he looked at her sharply. "Are you ever gonna forgive me?"
"I don't know." She pulled her hand out from underneath his and hugged her knees again in a protective hunch.
He exhaled a puff of air through his lips. "I'm sorry I was such a bastard, Nelly. I never meant to hurt you. I wish I could go back in time and do it over."
She swallowed, not knowing what to say. As far as she was concerned, he had gone back in time. To her, it still felt like it wasn't that long ago that they'd made love—or, at least, it was love on her part.
He'd just said she was the only girl he'd ever loved. There was a time that would have made her the happiest girl in the world, but it didn't now. It just confused her even more.
There were a few minutes of awkward silence, and then he spoke. "So, how's it going, livin' with Sam and the twins?"
"Still weird."
He nodded sympathetically.
"Sam works his ass off trying to pay my medical bills. I feel guilty that he's this stranger to me and yet I'm such a burden to him. I feel like a slacker, like I need to find a job or something—doing what, I don't know. I guess I could apply at the Tastee Freeze or the Dairy Queen."
"You'd get all the free ice cream you wanted," Jeremy surmised, a hint of teasing in his tone.
"Yep. There's always a silver linin', right?" she drawled sarcastically. "Maybe Donna would hire me back at the diner."
His gray eyes surveyed her, his expression thoughtful. "You still remember how to count—add and subtract?"
She gave a short, wry laugh. "Yeah. I think so."
"You can come work with me at the bank."
She arched a brow and studied his face. He was serious. It was the perfect solution, and she felt something lighten within her, like a weight was being lifted off her shoulders. She could contribute to the medical bills and, at the same time, working at the bank would be a legitimate excuse to get away from the house—and away from Sam, the twins, and her parents' disapproval.
"As a teller?" she asked.
He shrugged. "We don't really need any tellers right now, but you could be my assistant. I know I could find something for you to do."
Impulsively, she hugged him. "Thanks, Sucks. You don't know how much that helps me out."
She pulled back, but he surprised her by taking her face in his hands. His moonlight eyes held her gaze. "I've missed you, Nelly. More than you'll ever know."
She tensed.
"I know you're mad at me—and I deserve it—but I want you to know that I really, really want to kiss you right now."
"Don't," she said, suddenly feeling a little panicked.
What the hell? She'd never sparked a guy's interest before in her life—and certainly no one's romantic love. She'd always been everyone's buddy, not girlfriend material, and now two hot guys kept professing their love for her and wanting to kiss her?
She loved Jeremy, despite what he'd done, and she always would; but the way Sam affected her, the way her body reacted to him, shook her resolve where Jeremy was concerned. Her feelings for Jeremy had always been steady and constant, and now she was questioning the nature of them—not to mention the fact that he had betrayed her.
He stared at her a moment longer, idly rubbing his thumbs along her jaw. Then he lowered his hands in defeat. "It was six years ago, Nelly."
"Not for me, it wasn't."
He nodded, hanging his head.
She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "So, when do I start my new job?"
"It's up to you. You wanna start Monday?"
"Yep. Monday sounds good."
TBC