Part 17 (1/2)
”Yes,” she replied, staring at the bracelet. ”After he left, we took a walk through the hills behind the house-through the woods. The leaves had turned, and I remember how beautiful and peaceful it was.” She looked up at him. ”We were so happy.”
Jackson ran a finger over the tiny leaves. ”When I saw this, it reminded me of that day.” Placing a knuckle under her chin, he lifted it. ”We can be that way again.”
”I hope so.”
”I know so. Now,” he said, and gave her bottom a playful slap, ”finish getting ready and let's go party.”
She moved away from the mirror and headed toward the bedroom. Jackson followed.
”You surprise me,” he said abruptly.
Sam halted. ”How?”
”Your relations.h.i.+p with Anne. A short time ago, you didn't want her here, and now-”
”I thought you and Dad wanted me to cooperate,” she interrupted.
”We do, but your turnaround is unexpected. Not that we aren't pleased, of course.”
”Of course,” she repeated, and continued to the bedroom. Jackson stopped at the doorway, watching her.
Sam went to the closet and removed her dress. Laying it out on the bed, she stole a glance at Jackson over her shoulder. ”I know my change of heart seems abrupt, but Anne really is good at her job and she doesn't let me slide.”
”That's good, I suppose.”
Sam whirled in surprise. ”You suppose?”
Jackson leaned against the door. ”We weren't happy that she let you take that fall. Your father-”
She held up a hand, stopping him. ”That wasn't her fault.”
”She should've antic.i.p.ated what happened.”
”Don't be silly,” Sam scoffed, tightening the belt of her robe.
”And I'm sure your father is going to hold Anne responsible for your adopting that dog,” he grumbled.
”Anne had nothing to do with it,” Sam answered, tossing the rest of her clothes on the bed. ”And Roxy isn't that dog-she has a name.”
Jackson pushed away from the door and took a step. ”You know, if your father does object to Roxy, it isn't too late to give her back. I know a breeder of cute little Pomeranians,” he said hopefully.
”Like Marcy Crane's dog?”
Jackson missed the note of warning in Sam's voice. ”Yes.” Smiling, he took another step. ”A dog like that might fit into our lifestyle better,” he said, his attention moving to Roxy, lying on the bed.
Sitting down next to the dog, Sam laid a hand on her head. Roxy's tail beat the mattress. ”Marcy's dog snarls and nips every time anyone gets close.”
”And your dog doesn't?” he asked.
Catching the tone in Jackson's voice, Roxy lifted her head and stared at him for a moment. Then, with a sigh, she laid it back down and her eyes closed. Sam had the impression that the dog didn't think Jackson's comparison mattered. She agreed. Marcy's dog was aggressive, but Roxy barked only when someone surprised her, and she had never tried to bite.
Rising quickly, Sam felt her vision suddenly blur as black dots danced across her line of sight. Plopping down, she rubbed her forehead.
Jackson hurried to her side. ”What's wrong?”
”Nothing.” She let her hand fall and stood again, more slowly this time. ”A dizzy spell. I'm okay now.”
He stepped aside, allowing her to cross to the dresser. Opening the drawer containing her underclothes, she sighed. ”Roxy's going to be fine. She'll quiet down, and once she gets over her nervousness around you, you're going to love her as much as I do.”
Jackson eyed the dog skeptically.
With a shake of her head, Sam selected her underwear and moved back to the bed. Sinking down, she threw an arm over Roxy. ”She makes me feel safe,” she said defensively. ”So safe that I didn't have nightmares last night.”
Jackson strolled over to the nightstand and picked up Sam's bottle of medication. ”Did you consider it might be the meds, and not the dog?”
”I know it's not the pills,” she argued. ”I forgot-” She slapped her hand over her mouth.
His eyes narrowed as he opened the bottle and, shaking them out in his hand, quickly counted them. ”You haven't been taking them,” he accused as he returned them to the bottle.
”I have a couple of times,” Sam answered, stretching the truth. In reality, she hadn't taken one since the night she'd seen the woman on the dock.
”Samantha, your agreement with your father included taking you medication,” he lectured.
”But I don't need them. And,” she stressed, ”they make me groggy.”
Smacking the bottle back on the nightstand, Jackson frowned. ”You can't simply stop taking them-your body needs to be weaned away from them.” His frown deepened. ”Otherwise, you'll suffer side effects.”
”I haven't. If anything, I've felt better, stronger, and-”
”You will continue to take them until we have a chance to discuss this with Dr. Weissinger,” he said in a firm voice.
Leaning over, Sam grabbed the bottle and, rising, moved to the dresser. Opening a drawer, she tossed the bottle in and shut it. ”Okay, so I take the pills.” Wanting to change the subject, she turned and leaned against the dresser. ”Do you think you'll know anyone at the party tonight?”
”The Brightons. Maybe a few old faces from the summer I spent here as a teenager.”
”How old were you?”
”Fifteen. It was the year before Mother died.” He crossed the room and lifted the blinds. ”I remember this cabin, actually. We stayed across the lake, down a bit from where Fritz lives.”
”Really? Did you know the couple who lived here?”
Dropping the blinds, he turned and a sly smile stole across his face. ”I didn't know them, but I remember the wife. She'd sunbathe every afternoon down on the dock.” He hung his head sheepishly. ”And put it this way, spotting her as I cruised by in my fis.h.i.+ng boat was the high point of my day.” He lifted his head and shrugged. ”You know how teenage boys are.”
Sam's thoughts shot to Teddy Brighton and the young men who'd hurt her. Unconsciously, her hand stole to the scar now covered by Alice's haircut and she felt a moment of anxiety. Yeah, she knew all about teenage boys.
Jackson noticed. ”Has Anne mentioned her son?”