Stranger at the Door. Laura Abbot

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      OUR WHIRLWIND COURTSHIP and rash decision to elope was as out of character for me then as it would be now. It’s no secret there was a powerful physical attraction between Sam and me, but that was not sufficient motivation to throw caution to the winds and brave my mother’s ire. What was it about the young Sam Lambert that overcame my inhibitions and upbringing?

      Quite simply, from the first he seemed to see the real me. To revel in the Izzy he had discovered—and brought to life. For him, I was never typecast as merely a girl who would make an ideal wife, mother and social asset. Somehow he recognized my need to be rescued from convention. To be sure, Grandmama’s influence played a role. In the deepest part of myself, I’d always believed in the knight in shining armor. Much as I tried to deny it, I had always known that Drew was not that hero. The magic—and mystery—is that just as Sam recognized me immediately as his Izzy, so I knew, with complete confidence, that he was the man destined for me.

      Twink made sure Sam and I had plenty of time to ourselves during that Atlanta weekend. He coaxed from me stories about Springbranch, fascinated by the local customs and mores that had shaped me. Sunday afternoon we lay together in a hammock in the Montgomerys’ backyard. He lifted a lock of my hair and grinned that lopsided, charming grin of his. “That Southern belle? She’s not you, Izzy,” he said.

      “Oh, no,” I teased. “Then who am I?”

      Sobering, he traced a finger down my nose and considered my question. “You are real. Honest, loving and kind. You’re a peacemaker. If you had your way, you’d make everybody happy.”

      “Do I make you happy?” I murmured, my daring surprising me.

      “You have no idea,” he whispered. Then he leaned forward and kissed me. In that moment the blue sky above faded, the bird calls went silent, and I knew Sam understood me.

      “But that’s not all,” he said, leaning on one elbow looking down at me. “You have an adventurous streak you’ve never acted on. So tell me, if you were to follow your instincts, what would you do?”

      An intense question. One I’d never really considered, but he was right. I spent most of my time and energy concerned with others’ expectations. What did I really want? The answer came immediately. I wanted to be with Sam Lambert.

      “Enough about me,” I said by way of diversion. “How do I know you’re not full of cocky flyboy sweet talk? Maybe I’m the most gullible pushover you’ve come across lately.”

      “You’ve seen too many movies. Not all pilots are self-serving bastards.”

      “Noted,” I said. “Change of subject. When did you know you wanted to be a pilot?”

      “Ever since I was a kid.” His eyes lit up. “The trailer park where we lived was near a small landing strip. I couldn’t stay away. One of the mechanics took an interest in me. I grew up with the smells of aviation gas and oil.”

      “Where was that?”

      As Sam sketched more of his background, it became clear we came from two different worlds. He’d grown up in a small town in eastern Colorado where his father worked highway construction. When he was ten, his mother died. As he spoke of her, his jaw tensed, and I could tell how difficult it was for him to share her loss. Then his tone turned bitter. “My father soon found another lover. Jim Beam whiskey.”

      My throat convulsed as I pictured the motherless boy emotionally abandoned by his father.

      “I was angry. At God. At my mother. And especially at my father. If it hadn’t been for Lloyd, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

      “Lloyd?”

      “My brother. Four years younger than me. I, uh, kinda СКАЧАТЬ