July Thunder. Rachel Lee

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ were almost at the store before he responded. “He’s my father.”

      A million questions occurred to Mary, but she didn’t voice them. The store simply wasn’t the place to have such a discussion.

      Sam pushed the cart for her while she selected items and dropped them into it. He seemed preoccupied, which gave her the opportunity to look his way frequently without being detected. He was a strong man in his mid-thirties, with a face attractively lined by exposure to the harsh mountain elements. His gray eyes, so unlike the icy-blue of his father’s, were warm, even now when he seemed low. And never, not once, had she ever found him to be anything but kind.

      A remarkable man. A handsome man. One who would give women little heart flutters simply by smiling. As well she knew.

      She remembered his late wife only slightly, a petite dark-haired woman with a thousand-watt smile who always seemed to be laughing. Sam must sorely miss her. Which, she told herself sternly, was one of the best reasons to ignore those little flutters.

      Besides, marriage wasn’t for her. She didn’t deserve such happiness.

      But she owed Sam something for going out of his way, so she picked up extra for dinner, determined that he was going to eat with her tonight. No matter what he said. No reason for him to go back to his empty house, and no reason for her to spend the evening alone, worrying about that preacher across the street. Besides, it would give her an opportunity to ask one or two of those millions of questions that kept popping up in her mind.

      At the very least, learning about Sam Canfield would keep her mind off her own problems.

      Which, she told herself, was a very selfish way to think. Okay, so she was selfish. Maybe it would be good for both of them to talk a little.

      But nothing more than that. Not ever.

      3

      Sam helped carry Mary’s groceries in for her. From across the street, where the moving activity had ended, leaving only a locked-up trailer in the driveway and a battered Oldsmobile parked out front, he could almost feel his father’s eyes boring into his back.

      Elijah wasn’t in sight and might not even have been there, but Sam could still feel his presence and had to steel himself not to dart any looks in that direction. For all he knew, the old man was staring out a window at him.

      Although why Elijah would do that, he couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t cared to look on Sam’s face in fifteen years, and he hadn’t seemed any happier to see him on the road today.

      But the feeling persisted anyway, and he was glad when he carried the last bag into Mary’s kitchen.

      “You’ll stay for dinner, of course,” she said to him as he set it on the counter.

      Part of him just wanted to escape to his safe hermitage, but another part of him couldn’t resist the warm friendliness of her smile. He stood there, torn, and realized that his social graces had apparently gone the way of the dodo, because as his silence grew longer, her face began to fall.

      He couldn’t allow that. “Sure,” he said. “I’d like to.” Then he added, so she wouldn’t misunderstand, “Eating alone is the pits.” Then it struck him that that had been an ungracious thing to say. Damn, he sounded like he’d been raised in a stable.

      The corners of her mouth lifted, however, letting him know she hadn’t taken his words amiss. “It sure is,” she said. “And it’s absolutely no fun to cook alone. What we need to do is start a singles dining club. Get a group of us lonelyhearts together to cook for each other once in a while.”

      “That might not be a bad idea,” he allowed, although in truth he had no intention of socializing that way. He’d avoided all the singles clubs in town because he was convinced that whatever they claimed was their purpose, their members were all after the same thing: marriage. And he didn’t want that ever again.

      He unpacked the grocery bags for Mary, handing her each item so she could put it away. The way he’d once done for Beth, because she’d been convinced he would screw up her pantry organization if he put things away himself. His heart squeezed painfully at the memory.

      “Are you all right, Sam?”

      Mary’s voice, quiet and sweet, drew him back to the present. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

      Her brow knitted with concern and maybe a bit of disbelief, but she didn’t press him about it. He handed her a container of grated Parmesan cheese, and she turned away to tuck it into the cupboard.

      Then she gave him another kick in the heart. “So that’s your father moving in across the street?”

      He couldn’t blame her; her curiosity was natural. But he wished she would talk about the weather, the upcoming school year, or even his job. Anything but this. On the other hand, he couldn’t be rude.

      “Yeah,” he said, and pulled some cans of soup out of a bag.

      “I take it you don’t have a good relationship?”

      He gave a harsh crack of laughter. “That’s an understatement.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      For a minute he thought she was going to leave it there. But women never left anything there. A man would have, but a woman always wanted to pry into a guy’s heart. Hadn’t he learned that with Beth? Secrets were anathema to women. Particularly secrets of the heart and soul.

      “What happened between you?” she asked, her voice as gentle as gentle could be. That gentleness was going to kill him.

      “He disowned me fifteen years ago,” Sam said flatly. “Threw me out and disowned me.” His tone was meant to be a bar to further questions, but that didn’t work, either.

      “Oh, Sam,” she said, groceries forgotten, her gaze sorrowful. “Why in the world would he do such a thing?”

      “He said it was because I refused to become a preacher.” Although, in his heart of hearts, Sam believed it was more. As far back as he could remember, he and his father had disagreed on basic religious beliefs. Sam had challenged Elijah more than once with the brashness of youth. And even now that maturity had mellowed him somewhat and made him more tolerant, Sam still couldn’t buy into a lot of his father’s notions. Or at least the notions Elijah had tried to raise him with.

      “I’m sorry,” Mary said. “That’s terrible.”

      “It was a long time ago. It’s just better that we don’t speak. More peaceful for everybody.”

      Mary nodded and resumed putting the groceries away. “Well, it’s going to be awkward for you, living in the same town.”

      Sam shrugged and passed her a box of crackers. “I’ll deal with it.”

      Yeah, he thought. The way he was dealing with it right now? Feeling the pressure of his father’s presence like a dark cloud? Entertaining fleeting thoughts of taking a job elsewhere? Cripes, he had to quit running.

      He helped Mary make their dinner, a simple meal of salad, bakery rolls and two porterhouse steaks, which he was sure had been a big splurge for her. He felt bad about СКАЧАТЬ