Jake’s face darkened with emotion and his fingers tightened on the stem of his glass till Sam thought it would snap in two. “It was a car accident,” he said, his voice brittle and harsh. “I was the one driving.”
Sam stifled a gasp and held her tongue. Now was not the time to interrupt.
“I…wasn’t paying attention. I took my eye off the road for one split second and…that was all it took.” His jaw tightened and he looked away, eyes narrowed as if seeing the accident all over again. “The SUV in front of us stopped suddenly and I ran into the back of it. It wasn’t a huge van but…Jessica wasn’t wearing her seatbelt.” He looked at Sam then, and his face was gray with pain. “I didn’t know. I thought she’d buckled up. She cracked her head against the windshield. She never…woke up from her coma.”
It was then that Sam reached for his hand. She had to do something, even if just that. She couldn’t bear to see him in so much pain. “It wasn’t your fault, Jake. It was an accident.”
He shook his head sadly. “But it was an accident I caused. When I took my eyes off the road it was to glance at her. We got into an argument over something stupid…I can’t even remember what. All I remember is that I said something in anger, looked at her…and then she screamed.”
“I am…so sorry.” The words were so bare, so inadequate, but Sam didn’t know what else to say. What do you tell a man drowning in a sea of guilt, a man who refused to be comforted because he felt he deserved to suffer?
“If it weren’t for me she’d still be alive.” He pulled his hand away from her grasp and sat back in his chair. Then he folded his arms across his chest. “What right do I have to be happy when the woman I loved is dead and I was the one who killed her?”
Sam slid her hand from off the table and returned it to her lap. As she watched Jake she could see his emotional struggle in the resolute set of his jaw and his defensive posture, folding his arms as if to lock himself away from anyone who would dare reach out to him in sympathy.
So that was it. The problem was not with her, it was with Jake. Because of his feelings of guilt he’d decided that he should suffer all the days of his life.
Which made things even worse for Sam. Competing with the ghost of his late wife was one thing but trying to convince a guilt-ridden man that he deserved happiness was a horse of a different color. You can’t save a man who doesn’t want to be saved. Jake’s healing could not come from her. He would have to find that will within himself.
Until then, as far as winning his love was concerned, Sam now knew that she didn’t have the chance of an ice cube in hell.
CHAPTER SIX
“So how’s my girl doing?” Alvin trudged into the office in his muddy work boots without wiping his feet. As usual. At Meg’s sharp look he dropped his toolkit and backed out. “Alright, alright,” he muttered as he went back down the steps. “Sheesh.”
Meg looked across at Sam sitting at the computer and laughed. “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”
When Alvin tramped back into the office his boots were wet but sparkling clean, obviously freshly washed. He must have gone round back and turned the hose on them. Sam grinned at her Dad. Smart man. Much easier than sitting on the step, cleaning off mud.
“So how’s my girl?” he asked again and walked over to give her a peck on the forehead. “You’ve been so busy with your decorating gigs I haven’t seen much of you around the office lately.”
“I know, Dad,” she said, her tone apologetic. “But things have eased off a bit now.”
“Well, I’m glad to have you back,” he said with a wide grin. “I missed my plumbing partner. Didn’t we, Meg?” He walked over and kissed his wife on the cheek.
“Sam’s not my plumbing partner and of course we miss her,” she said and swatted at him. “Now leave me alone. Don’t you see I’m trying to get these invoices done?”
He lifted his eyebrows to Sam and gave her a crooked smile. “That’s my wife for you, all love and kisses.” Then he grabbed his lunch kit and headed for the kitchen in the back.
As soon as he was out of earshot Meg dropped her stack of invoices onto the desk and turned her sharp eyes on Sam. “Your dad made a good point,” she said as she tapped her pen on the desk. That was what she always did when she was thinking. “For the last few weeks you’ve been so focused on your decorating jobs we’ve hardly seen you. Now all of a sudden you have the time to spend four days out of a week with us?” Meg cocked her head to one side. “This is the first time Alvin has come in early enough to catch you in the office but I’ve been here all week. With you. What gives?”
“Oh, nothing.” Sam shrugged, trying to look casual.
“Don’t give me that,” Meg said with a snort. “You’ve been moping around all week like you just lost your best friend.” Then she frowned. “One of your friends didn’t die, did they?”
“No, nothing like that,” Sam said quickly before Meg reached over and grabbed her in an unsolicited bear hug. “I guess I’ve just been in…low spirits, that’s all.” As soon as the words were out, Sam realized her mistake. She’d given Meg the perfect opening to play mother hen.
And her stepmother did not hesitate to take the opportunity she’d been handed on a platter. “Oh, sweetie, what’s the matter?” With her stout arm she pushed the invoices to one side and the ledger paper to the other, clearing her desk as if preparing for a consultation with a client. The woman should have taken up psychology as a profession, the way she loved to listen to people’s woes and give advice. “Tell Meg all about it,” she crooned.
Sam sighed but she only shook her head. She wished she could share her dilemma with someone but she hadn’t told a soul, not even her mother, and she was not about to spill her guts to Meg. That was one sure way for a full and detailed report to get back to her father.