Part 27 (1/2)
Sam stopped her swaying. ”I planted it from seeds.”
”Really?”
”Uh-huh.” Her head bobbed. ”Alice gave me some from her plants.” Sam giggled. ”I didn't think she would after Pumpkin tried to dig one up. Alice was so angry.”
”I didn't think Alice ever got mad at her dogs.”
Sam's gaze shot to Anne's face. ”Pumpkin isn't Alice's dog. She's mine.”
”Your dog's name is Roxy,” Anne said carefully.
”No, my dog's name is Pumpkin,” Sam insisted in an even voice. ”Ted bought him for me.” She gave Anne a wink. ”Harley thinks I got him in a pet store.”
d.a.m.n it all to h.e.l.l-she is sleepwalking and she thinks she's Blanche. Anne tried to stay calm, but inside she was scared. Very scared. The blow to the head had caused more damage than she thought. She had to get Sam to the hospital. She could have a seizure or a stroke.
She stood and gave Sam a rea.s.suring smile. ”Hey, what do you say we go for a drive?” she asked, reaching down.
Sam inched away from the outstretched hand. ”No, I have to wait right here.”
”Why?”
Sam looked up at her with an expression that said, Isn't it obvious? ”Ted promised he'd come by tonight.”
”Ted?”
”Theodore Brighton the First,” Sam said proudly. ”He's crazy about me, you know.” She gave a happy laugh as she lifted her face to the sky. ”What that man can do.” Lowering her face, she gave Anne a sly look. ”You'd never know he's on the downhill side of forty. A twenty-year-old would be lucky to keep up with him.”
When Anne didn't comment, Sam pointed down the road. ”You can't tell anyone, but he pulls off right over there and flashes his lights.”
”Then you run out to meet him?”
Sam hugged her knees to her chest and grinned. ”Sure do.”
Anne was losing her patience. She had to get this woman medical attention. Bending down, she made a grab for Sam's arm. ”Come on, Sam, let's take a ride.”
Sam dodged her by rising to her feet. Moving past Anne, she paced to the far side of the porch. Anne noticed she was moving without a limp.
”I don't know who Sam is,” she declared. ”My name is Blanche.” She gave a short bark of laughter. ”Terrible name, isn't it? I don't know why my ma couldn't have named me something more mysterious . . . like Ca.s.sandra . . . instead of plain old Blanche.” She turned and c.o.c.ked her head. ”I don't think it suits me at all, do you?”
”Come on, let's go inside.”
Sam turned with a wiggle of her hips and leaned against the railing. ”I told you I can't. Ted's coming.”
”No, no, I don't think he is.”
With a sigh, Sam straightened and turned. ”You're probably right.” She fisted her hands on her hips. ”Isn't that just like a man? Promises, promises, but they never come through.” She jerked her head toward the cabin. ”Harley promised me the world, but look what I got-a stinking shack in the middle of nowhere.” She whirled, staring out at the empty road. ”Ted has to take me away from this,” she cried. ”Lordy, I don't think I can stand another winter up here. Day after day cooped up with him.”
Anne had had enough. Striding across the porch, she grasped Sam's arm and gave it a shake. ”We're going inside. Now.”
Sam's posture suddenly changed. Her shoulders fell and she took one limping step forward. Her head whipped from side to side until her attention stopped on Anne. ”What are you doing out here?”
Anne released her arm. ”What are you?”
”I-uh-came out to look at that bush.”
”And then?”
Sam shrugged. ”I guess I dozed off.”
”You don't remember our conversation?”
”No.” Sam's voice rose in panic. ”What conversation?”
Anne slung her arm around Sam's shoulders and guided her toward the door. She noticed Sam's limp was more p.r.o.nounced than it had been in days. Had she had some kind of a stroke?
When they entered the house, Roxy jumped to her feet and pressed her black nose into Sam's palm. Kneeling, Sam brushed her face against the dog's neck.
”I had another blackout, didn't I?” she murmured, not lifting her head.
”I don't know what happened, but I'm calling the emergency room and taking you in.”
”No, please,” Sam cried in a desperate voice. ”I'm okay. It's Tuesday night-”
”Monday,” Anne said quietly.
Sam fluttered her hand nervously. ”Okay, so it's Monday. My name is Samantha Moore; I'm thirty-five years old,” she said, rattling off statistics. ”See, I remember. I'm okay.” A tear rolled down her cheek. ”Please, don't take me to the hospital.”
Anne's heart broke for her. The Sam she'd seen the last couple of days had vanished, and the woman, kneeling on the floor and clutching her dog, needed help that was beyond Anne's skills. She walked over to her and helped her to her feet.
”Sam,” she began gently, ”I'm afraid your head injury is more serious than we thought. You must see a doctor.”
”Do you promise that you won't let them keep me?”
”We'll do whatever the doctor thinks best, and-”
Sam struggled away from her. ”No.”
”Sam,” she said, laying it on the line, ”during the blackout, or whatever it was, you thought you were Blanche.”
Sam's eyes flared and she held up her hand, stopping Anne. ”Wait.” She turned and fled down the hall.
Anne took the opportunity to grab the phone and quickly dial a number.
”Yeah?” Greg's sleepy voice sounded in her ear.
”It's Anne.” She glanced over her shoulder. ”I'm at Sam's and I think I'm going to need your help,” she whispered into the receiver. ”Would you please come over right away?”
Not waiting for an answer, Anne disconnected before Sam caught her on the phone. A moment later, Sam came rus.h.i.+ng into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper.
”Here. Take a look at this.” She held out the paper. ”It's Blanche.”