Chapter 18

The telephone on Emma’s desk rang late on a Thursday afternoon, almost two weeks after Sam’s most recent trip to Serenity. Reaching over a stack of books and a scattering of papers, she grabbed the receiver. Her attention still on the requisition form she was filling out, she issued a brisk, businesslike greeting.

“Good afternoon. Serenity Public Library. Emma Dalton speaking.”

“Emma, it’s Sam.”

Startled, she dropped her pen and clutched the receiver more tightly, a sudden, inexplicable sense of dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. Sam never called her at the library. At least, he never had until today.

Her first thought was of his mother. Had something happened to her? But surely, if that were the case, she would have been contacted before Sam. Not only was she right there in town, but most people in Serenity were also aware of her special relationship with Margaret Griffin.

Then Emma thought of the nightly news reports detailing possible military deployments to help curb the upheaval in eastern Europe, and the odd, almost detached way in which Sam had spoken. As if he’d already braced himself to deliver bad news.

Dread turned to ice-cold, numbing fear as she drew a shaky breath. She knew why he had called—knew with painful certainty what he had to tell her. He had tried to prepare her for the possibility when they’d been together, but she hadn’t wanted to listen to what he’d had to say.

Hadn’t wanted to believe that he would leave her, after all…

“Still there?” he asked, reminding her of how long she’d gone without acknowledging him.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said, her voice quavering. “Is…is something wrong?”

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he began. “Sorry I have to tell you over the telephone. I’m being sent back to Italy. We’re flying out tonight.”

“Tonight…?”

Bad enough that he was leaving her, but how could he do it on such short notice? Again, she admitted that he’d tried to warn her of that possibility, as well, and again, she had refused to pay attention.

“I’m not going to have time to come to Serenity. I’m going to be in briefings until early evening. Then I have to pack my gear.” He paused, drew an audibly ragged breath. “God, I wish you were here….”

She could be, Emma realized, glancing at the clock on the wall. She could jump in her car, drive like crazy and be waiting for him at his apartment. He’d given her a key. She could let herself inside and…what?

Watch him pack his bags and go?

How many times had she and her mother watched her father do just that?

Too many times for her to want to go through a repeat performance now.

“Well, I’m not,” she answered, sounding so matter-of-fact that she surprised herself.

“Believe me, Emma, I don’t want to leave you like this, but it’s—”

“Your job?” she finished for him. “I know that, Sam, and I understand.”

“Do you?” he demanded, anger now underlying his tone. “Do you honestly understand why I have to go? Or do you think I’m simply running out on you, just like your father ran out on your mother?”

She hesitated a moment, surprised by how close he’d come to the truth. He knew her so well. But then, she’d told him her worst fears, hadn’t she? Now he was throwing them back in her face.

“Have you talked to your mother yet?” she asked, refusing to acknowledge his gibe.

He didn’t respond for several seconds. Then, in a tone just as terse as hers, he said, “I’m going to call her now, but I’d really appreciate it if you’d look in on her later, as well. That is, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“Of course it isn’t any trouble,” she hastened to assure him. Suddenly feeling mollified, she added, “I…I don’t suppose you know how long you’ll…you’ll be gone.”

“No idea at all. Goodbye, Emma. Take care.”

Before she could say anything more, Emma heard a sharp click followed closely by the insistent beep-beep-beep of the dial tone. With a mixture of shock and outrage, she stared at the receiver, slowly realizing that Sam had hung up on her.

“Well, fine. Be that way,” she muttered darkly as she cradled the offending instrument.

Riding high on the crest of her seemingly righteous indignation, she made it through the rest of the day, though she would have been hard-pressed to say exactly what she accomplished had anyone asked. All she really remembered doing was shuffling papers and thumbing through books rather mindlessly.

By the time she climbed into her hot, sticky car at six-thirty, however, she was beginning to experience the first stirring of bitter regret.

She loved Sam. Loved him with all her heart and soul. But she hadn’t bothered to tell him. Instead, she had treated him like her worst enemy, blaming him for something that wasn’t his fault.

She had reacted in a childish, stupid way, giving up a chance to see him one more time before he left simply because he was leaving. She had totally disregarded the fact that he wasn’t taking off on a whim. Nor was he bored with her or indifferent to her needs.

He had a job to do—a job that gave him a sense of pride and fulfillment. And he was going off to do it. Reluctantly, because he loved her. Yet more dutifully than a lesser man would.

She should have been proud of him, and she should have taken the chance she’d had to let him know it. Had she not been so angry, so spiteful, she could have been there with him. She could have held him in her arms and kissed him so that when he finally left, it was with the taste of her on his mouth.

At Margaret’s house, Emma parked in the driveway, trudged up to the front porch and rang the bell. Her friend came to the door almost immediately.

“I was sure you’d change your mind and go to San Antonio, after all,” she said by way of greeting.

“No.” Emma moved past her slowly. “I should have, but I…” She sat on the sofa and stared at her hands. “I really blew it,” she finished at last.

“Well, yes, it does seem that way. Happens to the best of us, though.”

“So what do I do now?”

“As I see it, you have two choices. You can wallow in self-pity or you can set about making things right between you and Sam before he gets on that transport plane tonight. Unfortunately, he called again about fifteen minutes ago. He’s leaving earlier than originally planned, so you’ll have to do it over the phone. Not the best way to make amends, but better than nothing.”

“I’m not sure he’ll even listen to me now.”

“Maybe not, but don’t you think it’s worth a try?”

“Yes…yes, I do,” Emma admitted. Standing again, she started toward the door. “I’d rather call from home, but I can come back…after…”

“Don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be all right. You take care of your needs tonight—yours and Sam’s. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”

At her house, Emma headed straight for the telephone. She dialed the number of Sam’s apartment from memory, her hands shaking, her heart pounding with anxiety.

He had every right to be furious with her, and no doubt, he was. But she couldn’t let him go thinking she cared so little for him—

The fourth ring was cut off by the answering machine. Emma frowned uncertainly, tempted to hang up. Was it possible he’d already been there and gone again? She hadn’t thought to ask Margaret exactly when his flight was due to leave, but it was almost seven now.

She had so much to say to him. How could she do it in a sixty-second message—a message he might not get for weeks? Of course, he might not have made it home yet. Or he might actually be there now, but unable to come to the phone.

At the sound of the beep, Emma drew a quick, steadying breath.

“Sam, it’s Emma. It’s seven o’clock Thursday night. I’m home, and I…I really need to talk to you, to tell you how…sorry I am for the way I behaved earlier. So…please call me…if you can. I love you.”

She hung up the receiver and hurried upstairs to change out of her skirt and blouse. Eyeing the telephone on the nightstand as if that alone would make it ring, she pulled on shorts and a T-shirt.

In the kitchen again, she opened the refrigerator door and stared at the half-empty shelves. She had planned to stop at the grocery store on her way home to stock up for the weekend when Sam would be there. Now that wouldn’t be necessary.

She risked a glance at the clock on the wall—7:25. Where was he? Already on the transport plane? Or at the apartment, packing his gear, still too angry to talk to her?

Crossing to the pantry, she pulled out a bag of chips, then put them back, her roiling stomach rebelling at the idea of eating anything.

She eyed the phone on the counter, glanced at the clock again—7:40 now—then paced to the alcove and sat in one of the chairs by the table, for all of two minutes. Up again, she moved to the sink, took a glass from the cabinet, ran water into it.

As she shut off the faucet, the sudden, shrill ring of the telephone jolted through her. She dropped the glass in the sink, luckily without breaking it. Her heart racing, she spun around and ran across the kitchen, her bare feet slapping against the linoleum.

She grabbed the receiver on the third ring, then nearly dropped it.

“Hello,” she said at last, a catch in her voice.

“Emma, are you all right?”

Sam…thank God…it was Sam.

“I…I was just running to…to get the phone,” she stammered. “I didn’t want to…didn’t want to…” Unexpectedly, her eyes filled with tears, and she paused to swallow a sob. “Sam, I’m so sorry. I should have been there with you. I could have been there if only I hadn’t been so foolish.”

“Emma, sweetheart, it’s all right.”

“No, it’s not,” she insisted. “I acted like you were committing some kind of horrible crime when all you were doing was your job. But I couldn’t face the thought of you going away. You were right. I was thinking of my father, but you’re not like him. You’re a decent, honorable man. I love you and I’m going to miss you so much, but I didn’t even bother to tell you—”

“Tell me now, Emma,” he cut in, his tone firm yet gentle.

“I love you, Sam. I love you with all my heart. And I’m going to miss you so much.”

“I love you, too. And I’m going to miss you every hour of every day until I’m home again. You’ll be waiting for me, won’t you, Emma? Because I am coming home to you just as soon as possible.”

“Yes, Sam, I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I’ll be in touch once I get settled in my quarters at the air base. You have Internet access and e-mail on that fancy computer of yours at the library, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she admitted, frowning thoughtfully.

“Good. So do I. Got a pen handy?”

He gave her his e-mail address, then jotted down hers.

“We’ll be able to talk every day,” she said, smiling for the first time that evening.

No matter where in the world Sam went, linked as they would be by the magic of cyberspace, it wouldn’t seem like he was quite so far away.

“It won’t be as nice as hearing your voice, but it will most definitely be the next-best thing.”

“Yes, it will,” she agreed.

“Well, I’d better get going,” he advised with obvious reluctance. “My flight is scheduled to depart in about an hour.”

“I love you,” she said, wanting to be sure, one more time, that he knew it. “So very much…”

“And I love you,” he, too, repeated, a noticeable catch in his voice. “See you soon.”

“Yes, soon…”

For a day or so after Sam left, Emma moped around the house, generally feeling sorry for herself. But then, she found the first of what would be many e-mail messages from him waiting for her when she logged on to the Internet.

He had arrived safely at the air base in northern Italy, he missed her more than ever and oh, by the way, would she mind going over to San Antonio every now and then while he was away, maybe with Margaret, to check on his apartment and take his car out for a drive? There was an extra set of car keys in a kitchen drawer. He’d appreciate it so much.

Emma had assured him she didn’t mind at all. In fact, she was glad he’d asked. With one reason to go to San Antonio, others soon came to mind.

Gradually, as one week became two, then three, she found herself thinking more and more of how she wanted her life to be when Sam returned, and began taking steps—albeit baby steps—toward that end.

The first weekend she drove to San Antonio, Margaret went with her. They had planned to stay only one night, but ended up staying two nights instead. Taking Sam’s car, they went exploring one afternoon, ending up in the neighborhood where she and Sam had looked at houses earlier in the summer.

The one Emma had liked was no longer on the market, but she saw another with a For Lease sign that looked equally promising. Without examining her motives too closely, she pulled over to the curb and jotted down the number of the real-estate agency listing the property while Margaret nodded her approval.

The following day, they stopped at a nearby nursery and bought a variety of indoor and outdoor plants to liven up the interior of Sam’s rather sterile furnished apartment, as well as the bare balcony.

Nesting, Emma thought, without any great surprise. Maybe she had some sort of natural instinct for turning a house, or a barren apartment, into a home. Considering the kind of future she now had in mind, she certainly hoped so.

On her second trip to San Antonio, this time on her own, since Margaret had already made plans with several of her friends, Emma took along some of her favorite coffee mugs, a few books and CDs, and a brightly colored quilt for Sam’s bed. On that trip, she also looked at houses again, venturing into a couple of other neighborhoods the real-estate agent recommended.

Prior to her third trip—made over a couple of week-days since she had to work over the weekend—she called one of the officers’ wives she had met through Sam. At Emma’s suggestion, they met for lunch, along with several of the other wives. Their candid conversation about life “in the military” was fascinating, as well as a bit frightening.

They all seemed to be surviving quite nicely, though, their good humor and their years-long marriages intact. Their overall camaraderie and their obvious concern for each other’s well-being, especially while their husbands were away, was reassuring, as well.

Emma realized that there would always be other women nearby who would not only understand what she was going through, but also offer their support whenever Sam couldn’t be there for her.

On that third trip, Emma also checked out job prospects at the various libraries around town. Several positions were currently available and others would be opening up in the near future. She shouldn’t have any trouble finding work if she wanted it, and that, too, was reassuring.

During the time Sam was away, Margaret also had her scheduled appointment with Dr. Rozan. There was more good news from him. Margaret’s leukemia remained in remission. She could go off the drug she’d been taking for two months, then the doctor would see her again and decide if further treatment was necessary.

On the drive back to Serenity, Emma was elated. Margaret, too, seemed very pleased. Yet she had also prepared for less-heartening news in a way meant to lessen any burden on Emma and Sam.

“I want you to know that I’ve found someone who can come and stay with me in the event I take a turn for the worse,” she announced in a matter-of-fact tone. “You and Sam are going to have enough adjusting to do without worrying about me. I know I can count on you in a crisis, but when minor problems arise, I want to be able to manage on my own without depending on your help.”

“But—” Emma began, ready to protest.

“No buts, Emma. Callie Miller is just the person to enable me to do that. She’s a retired nurse who’s recently lost her husband. I met her at one of the senior socials at St. Mary’s a few months ago, and we got to talking—found out we had a lot in common. Occasionally, she does some private nursing to supplement her income, and I can certainly afford to pay her.”

Aware of how determined Margaret was to give her and Sam the opportunity to be together wherever he was stationed, Emma didn’t argue with her.

As had been expected, political pressure from neighboring countries, combined with an increased threat of military strikes, brought the crisis in eastern Europe to a reasonably swift conclusion. To Emma’s relief, use of deadly force proved to be unnecessary. Not a single U.S. serviceman was killed, and six weeks after Sam’s departure, his return seemed imminent.

For the most part, Emma was prepared.

She had tentatively given notice at the library, recommending Marion Cole for her position. Since her husband had found work in Serenity, they would be staying in town, after all.

Emma had also talked to Father Langley at St. Mary’s. She couldn’t set an exact date for her and Sam to be married yet, but she had put the kindly old priest on alert. His obvious happiness for them had truly warmed her heart.

All she had left to do was make a decision about her house. Selling it outright was hard for her to contemplate. She and Sam wouldn’t be buying a house of their own for a while yet. His assignment in San Antonio had come about as a result of a request he’d made because of Margaret’s illness, and would be temporary at best.

They didn’t need the money a sale would bring for a down payment on another property. But hanging on to her house, especially if she couldn’t find a dependable tenant, could end up being more trouble than it was worth.

Her dilemma was solved by chance. A letter arrived from Megan Cahill. She, too, had lived in the same foster home as Emma and Jane, and like Jane, had left years ago, never to return. The last Emma had heard from her, almost a year ago, she had been living in San Diego with her husband and young son.

Now it seemed Megan was returning to Serenity, alone, and was in need of a house to rent. While worry for her old friend’s misfortune—though Megan hadn’t elaborated, she and her husband were separating—Emma saw a solution to her own problem.

Megan could live in her house for a nominal rent, giving Emma and Sam time to decide on a final means of disposition sometime in the future.

Sam called at last, early on a Monday morning, with the news Emma had been longing to hear.

“I’m scheduled to depart on a flight out tomorrow morning. Actually, late tonight your time,” he advised without preamble.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she promised, her voice husky.

“Flight time is about fourteen hours, so I probably won’t be able to make it to Serenity until sometime Wednesday afternoon. I’ll have to stop by the apartment first, get cleaned up…”

“No problem.”

Smiling sleepily, she thought of how surprised he was going to be when he got to the apartment. She hadn’t told him half of what she’d been up to in his absence.

“I’d better go,” he said. “Love you.”

“Me, too. See you soon.”

Her smile widening, Emma hung up the receiver, then tossed the bedcovers aside, ready to set in motion her own very special plan for Sam’s welcome home.