Sanctuary(117)

"Oh." Sam opened a drawer for a spoon, hoping Giff would take the hint and mosey on before things got any stickier. Then he put the spoon down with a clatter and stared. "Sweet Jesus, boy, you're not talking about marrying her?"

Giffs jaw set, his eyes glinted. "I'm going to marry her, Mr. Hathaway. I'd like to have your blessing over it, but either way, I'm having her."

Sam shook his head, rubbed his eyes. Life just flat refused to be simple, he reflected. A man went along, minding his own business, wanting nothing more than for other people to mind theirs in return, but life just kept throwing tacks under your bare feet.

"Boy, you want to take her on, I'm not going to stand in your way. Couldn't anyhow, even if I planted my boots in concrete. The two of you are of age and ought to have the sense to know your own minds." He dropped his hands. "But I've got to say, Giff, as I've always been fond of you, I think you're taking on a sack of trouble there. You'll be lucky to get one moment's peace from the time you say 'I do' till you take your last breath."

"Peace isn't a priority of mine."

"she'll run through every penny you've put by and won't have a clue where she spent it."

"she's not near as foolish as you think. And I can always make more money."

"I'm not going to waste my breath talking you out of something you've got your mind set on."

"I'm good for her."

"No question about it. Fact is, you might be the making of her."

Resigned to it, Sam offered a hand. "I'll wish you luck."

Sam watched Gaff go off with a spring in his step. He didn't doubt the boy was in love, and if he let himself he could remember what it was like to feel that light in the head, that edgy in the gut. That hot in the blood.

Sam settled in the breakfast nook with his second cup of coffee and his soggy cereal and watched the sky lighten to a bold summer blue.

He'd been just as dazed and dazzled by Annabelle as Gaff was now with Lexy. It had only taken one look for his heart to jolt straight out of his chest and fall at her feet.

Christ, they'd been young. He was barely eighteen that summer, coming to the island to work on his uncle's shrimp boat. Casting nets, sweating under a merciless sun until his hands were raw and his back a misery.

He enjoyed every second of it.

He fell in love with the island, first glance. The hazy greens, the pockets of solitude, the surprises around every bend of the river or road.

Then he saw Belle Pendleton walking along the beach, gathering shells at sunset. Long golden legs, willowy body, the generous fall of waving red hair. Eyes as clear as water and blue as summer.

The sight of her hazed his vision and closed his throat.

He smelled of shrimp and sweat and engine grease. He wanted a quick swim through the waves to loosen the muscles the day's work had aching. But she smiled at him and, holding a pink-lined conch shell, began to talk to him.

He was tongue-tied and terrified. He'd always been intimidated by females, but this vision had already captured his heart with one smile left him grunting out responses like an ill-mannered ape. He never knew how he'd managed to stutter out an invitation to take a walk the next evening.

Years later, when he asked her why she'd said yes, she just laughed.

You were so handsome, Sam. So serious and stern and sweet. And you were the first boy-and the last man-to make my heart skip a beat.

she'd meant it. Then, Sam thought. After he had worked enough, saved enough money to satisfy him, he'd gone to her father to ask permission for her hand. A great deal more formal that had been, Sam mused, sipping his coffee, than the meeting just now with Gaff There'd been no sneaking out of Annabelle's bedroom at dawn either. Though there had been stolen afternoons in the forest.

Even when a man's blood had been cool for years, he remembered what it was like to have it run hot. For the first few years that Anabelle was gone, his blood had heated from time to time. He'd taken care of that in Savannah.

It hadn't shamed him to pay for sex. A professional woman didn't require conversation or wooing. she simply transacted business. It had been some time since he'd required that particular service, though. And since AIDS and other potential horrors of impersonal sex scared him, Sam was relieved to have weaned himself away from it.

Everything he needed was on the island. He'd found the peace that young Gaff claimed not to want.

Sam sat back to enjoy the rest of his coffee in the quiet. He had to struggle with a hard twinge of irritation when the door opened and Jo walked in. The fact that she hesitated when she saw him and a slight flicker of annoyance moved over her face both shamed and amused him.

Peas in a pod, he decided, who don't much care to share the pod.

"Good morning." Damn it, all she'd wanted was a quick slug of coffee before she went out to work. Not just wander or brood, but work. she'd awakened for the first time in weeks refreshed and focused, and she didn't want to waste it, "Clear morning," Sam said. "Thunderstorms and strong winds by evening, though."