Part 11 (1/2)
”Dr. Van Horn prescribed them, not your psychiatrist?”
Sam waved her away and slowly rose to her feet. ”I don't know whose name was on the scrip-I never looked-but Jackson thought they'd help.”
Anne picked up the bottle of pills and studied them. Dr. Van Horn's name was on the label. Without a word, she placed it back on the nightstand. ”By the way, Jackson called last night after you were asleep.”
Sam's eyes widened. ”You didn't tell him about my fall, did you?”
”I didn't have to,” Anne said with a grimace. ”Your father had already talked to him.”
”Great.” Sam took a few halting steps away from the bed. ”I suppose he's rus.h.i.+ng up here?”
”No,” Anne said, following close behind. ”I convinced him it was minor, but he is calling back this morning.”
Sam stopped her progress across the room and turned. ”When he does call, please don't say anything about the woman.”
”If someone is prowling around the cabin, don't you think he should know?”
”No,” Sam replied, her words short. ”He won't believe me, so what's the point?” She studied Anne carefully. ”Do you think I saw someone?”
Anne's gaze dropped to the floor. ”I believe that you saw something.” She hesitated. ”Whether or not someone was really down there . . .” Her voice trailed away.
”I might have been dreaming?”
”I don't know.” She laid a hand on Sam's arm. ”But word travels fast around here. If anyone else has spotted a woman wandering around the lake at night, someone is sure to mention it.”
Well, at least Anne wasn't dismissing her out of hand like her father and Jackson would've done. She supposed she should be grateful for that much, but maybe if there were more late-night visits, it would be best to keep her mouth shut.
”Do you need any help getting dressed?” Anne asked.
Sam shook her head.
”Okay. I'll set the table and we'll have breakfast.”
A few minutes later, Sam joined Anne in the kitchen. She'd pulled out the chair when a knock at the door startled her. Jerking, she made a move away from the table, heading back to the safety of her bedroom, but a look from Anne stopped her. With a sigh of resignation, she sat down.
Anne swiftly walked to the door, opening it to reveal Greg Clemons and the black dog Sam had defended, standing on her porch.
She stifled a groan.
”Hope you don't mind,” Greg said, stepping into the kitchen, ”but Roxy wanted to see how you were doing.”
Sam's attention turned to the dog sitting at Greg's side. Once again, their eyes met and the dog wiggled in response.
”I think she remembers me,” Sam said in a surprised voice.
Greg bent and scratched the dog's ears. ”Sure she does. Animals always remember when someone does them a kindness.” He smiled down at the dog. ”Don't you, Roxy?”
Roxy's eyes left Sam's and she stared up at Greg, c.o.c.king her head.
Sam gave a chuckle. ”She knows you're talking about her.”
”She's a smart girl,” he answered, giving Roxy's ears another scratch. His attention turned toward Sam. ”Would you like to officially meet her?”
Sam felt a moment of panic. She'd never been around animals much. When she was a child, her parents had never wanted a dog interfering with their lifestyle, and as an adult, she'd always been too busy for pets.
”I guess,” she replied hesitantly.
He knelt beside Roxy. ”Okay. I'm going to remove her leash, so just let her come to you when she's ready. And don't stare at her-dogs sometimes see that as aggression. Pretend she's not even here.”
Sam turned her head away from Roxy and focused on the wall. A moment later, she felt a cold nose nudge her hand resting on her thigh.
”May I look now?” she asked.
”You bet,” Greg said with a laugh. ”She wants you to pet her. That's a good sign.”
She lowered her gaze to the pair of brown eyes looking up at her expectantly. With a smile, she stroked the slick black head. ”You're a pretty girl, aren't you,” she said softly as a long pink tongue flicked out to lick her wrist.
With a pleased look, Greg pulled out a chair and joined them. ”I'm glad she's making friends with you. She's been afraid of strangers and we're trying to help her get over it.”
Placing a cup of coffee next to Greg, Anne watched Sam interact with the dog. ”She looks like a border collie.”
Greg nodded. ”Plus some German shepherd and who knows what else thrown into the mix.”
”What's her story?” Anne asked.
Greg frowned before answering. ”We found her chained in the yard of a vacant house. No food, no water. The owners moved away and left her behind.”
Sam gave a small gasp. ”That's terrible.”
He picked up his coffee and took a long sip. Setting it down, he glanced at the dog. ”You're right. They could've at least found a home for her or turned her in to the shelter instead of abandoning her.” He shook his head slowly. ”But some people treat animals like they're disposable.”
Sam leaned down and laid a cheek on Roxy's head. ”You poor thing,” she murmured, missing the speculative look on Greg's face.
Suddenly the dog jerked away from Sam, and with two loud yips ran to Greg.
Startled, Sam drew back. ”Did I frighten her?”
Greg tossed a glance over his shoulder at the door. ”Nope, she hears someone coming up to the porch.”
The words were barely out of his mouth when a knock at the door set Roxy barking furiously from her spot by his leg.
”Quiet,” he said in a firm voice as he laid one hand on her head and fastened the leash with the other. Immediately, Roxy plopped at his feet, panting.
Anne, her hand on the door, looked back at Greg. ”Is it okay if I open it?”
He nodded.
”My goodness,” Fritz Thorpe said, standing in the doorway. ”What's all the racket?” He spotted Greg and Roxy. ”Ah, Greg and one of his strays.”
”Hi, Fritz,” Anne said, giving Sam a cautious glance while she swung the door wider. ”Greg brought Roxy over to meet Sam.”