Part 32 (1/2)
”I'm going to need my truck, Summer. I can't just leave it here.”
”Why not? It's a piece of junk. We'll buy another one.”
”With what money?”
Summer stared at him without blinking, and Billy realized she must be expecting some sort of inheritance from her mother.
”How much?” he said flatly.
”Not more than a couple of million,” she said. ”Most of her estate was land, and that went to Aunt Ellen.”
”Sonofab.i.t.c.h,” he said. ”Why did you marry me, Summer? You sure as h.e.l.l weren't hoping I'd be able to take care of you, because you can take d.a.m.ned fine care of yourself!”
”I told you why,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with him. ”I love you.”
He wanted to believe her. What other reason could she have for staying with him? He wanted to tell her that he loved her, too. Had always loved her. Would always love her. The words were on the tip of his tongue.
But what kind of man lived off money provided by the woman he loved? He wouldn't be able to face himself in the mirror. It had ruined his father, turned him into a mean, slothful drunk. Billy couldn't bear to end up that way. But he knew in his heart that sooner or later he'd resent Summer's money. He couldn't help it.
It might be old-fas.h.i.+oned. But he wanted to be the one to take care of her. And that was never going to happen.
”What do you want to do, Billy?”
He wanted to call around town and find an alternator and fix his pickup. But they were running out of time to save Blackjack. Summer needed him now more than she ever had. He would just have to swallow his pride and let her spend her money to get them both home.
He slammed down the hood and said, ”Let's go buy a new truck.”
Sam's house was empty. Again. For a short time it had been a home full of love and laughter. And he'd given it all away. To his brother. But how could he have fought for Emma, when it meant stealing away his brother's child?
After his ultimatum to Luke, Emma had finally spoken. She'd turned to his brother and said, ”I need to pack a bag. Then I'd appreciate a ride back to the C-Bar.”
She hadn't spoken a word to him.
Luke had glared at him, sullen and defiant. ”I don't have to marry Emma to be a father to my kid.”
”Emma deserves a husband,” Sam had said. ”Your child deserves his father.”
They hadn't spoken another word while they waited for Emma. It hadn't taken her long. It was a small bag, and not heavy, but Sam moved forward to take it from her. She pulled it out of his reach and said, ”I'm not a cripple.”
She bit her lip, but he'd already backed away. She didn't protest when Luke took the bag for her and said, ”You ready?”
She nodded. She didn't look at him when she said, ”Good-bye, Sam.”
”I'll see you at the wedding,” he'd said.
She hadn't replied, just turned and walked out the screen door. Luke had let it slam behind them.
Sam had left the house in his truck and returned with a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He'd poured himself a gla.s.s of Jack Daniel's and set it on the kitchen table and stared at it. He wanted a drink. He needed a drink. He figured if there was ever an excuse to take one, this was it.
He fingered the gla.s.s, knowing how dangerous one sip of liquor could be for an alcoholic. Only, he already knew he wanted more than one drink. He wanted the oblivion to be found in the whole bottle. Because he didn't think he could bear seeing Emma become his brother's wife.
Sam dropped his head into his hands. He didn't see what else he could have done. Luke might think he didn't care now, but what would happen when he was a little older and realized what he'd given up?
G.o.d, why hadn't Emma told him? Why had she let him make love to her-fall in love with her-if she'd known how impossible their situation was?
He took the gla.s.s in his hand, gripping it hard, but before he got it to his mouth, he was interrupted by a knock.
”Sam? Are you in there?”
He set the gla.s.s down and crossed to the door but didn't open it. ”I guess Luke told you what happened,” he said to his mother through the screen.
”He did,” she said. ”May I come in?”
”I don't want to talk about it,” Sam said.
But like mothers everywhere, she couldn't let well enough alone. ”I think we have to talk about it,” she said.
Sam backed up as his mother opened the screen door and came inside. ”I'm having a drink,” he said. ”You want to join me?”
”Nothing for me right now,” she said, eyeing the bottle of Jack Daniel's and the gla.s.s of liquor on the table. ”I just want to talk.”
Sam crossed back to the table and said, ”I'm listening.”
She sighed and sat across from him at the table. ”I should have told all you kids the truth a long time ago. Four years ago, I had a golden chance to tell your sister Callie what I'm about to tell you, but I choked and told her a lie instead.”
”What are you talking about, Mom? You've completely lost me.”
”I know something about what you're going through right now, how confused you're feeling, and-”
”How could you possibly know what I'm feeling?” Sam said in a harsh voice.
Her eyes met his, and he almost couldn't bear the look of sorrow he saw.
”There's a reason why your father and I never celebrated our wedding anniversary,” she said. ”The math wouldn't have added up. I wasn't pregnant with Callie when I married your father.” She paused, swallowed hard, and said, ”I was pregnant with another child.”
Sam stared at his mother, his jaw agape. Before he could say a word, she raised a hand and cut him off. ”I'll tell you what all this has to do with you. Just let me say it in my own way.”
He saw her hand was trembling as she shoved the hair back from her face. To give her credit, she looked him in the eye as she continued her confession.
”I was already pregnant with Jesse's child-although we weren't married-when I met and fell in love with Jackson Blackthorne. Neither of us expected it to happen. It just happened.”
”Then Dad was right to be jealous of Blackjack,” Sam said, his stomach churning.
”Please, Sam,” his mother said. ”Just listen.”
Sam sat back in his wheelchair and crossed his arms. ”I'm listening.”