The Man Must Marry(37)

She turned on her blinker and pulled down an even narrower lane to their   right. "Don't underestimate Emmett. He never makes idle threats."                       
       
           



       

"Yeah, he told me that, too."

"So, am I going to get a new uncle?" She gave him a quick inspection,   then smiled out the windshield again. "You'd be a vast improvement over   my last one. David Sommers looked like a troll and had the personality   of a billy goat."

"How old did you say you are?" Sam asked with a chuckle.

"Emmett claims I'm sixteen going on sixty. You still haven't answered my question, Mr. Sinclair."

"I might, if you call me Sam."

"Okay, Sam," she said, pulling into the parking lot of a small warehouse   perched on the edge of a tiny cove. She shut off the engine and looked   over at him. "Please tell me you're as astute as your grandfather and   can see how much my aunt deserves to have somebody love her."

"There are no knights in shining armor in real life, Jennifer. It won't   matter how much I love Willa, if she's unable to love herself."

"But that's just it. I remember how Auntie used to be. I was only eight,   but when Gram and Gramps died and she lost her baby, the light inside   her dimmed. Then five years ago, when we had the accident,"

she said, touching her right knee, "that light nearly went out   completely. But a tiny spark's still there; I know it is. I see hints of   it every so often, like when she and I go sailing together."

"Yeah. I saw it, too, on our trip here."

"She just needs someone to toss fuel on that spark and coax it back to life."

"And you think I'm that someone?"

"Yes."

Sam leaned against his door and studied his emphatic chauffeur. "What makes you so sure?"

"Your grandfather talked about his ‘three boys' all the time, so it   wasn't hard for me to figure out that of all of his grandsons, you're   the most like Abram. And whenever he and Aunt Willa were together, they   were like baking soda and vinegar. In the six weeks your grandfather  was  here, I saw Auntie's spark actually burst into flame a few times.  Abram  Sinclair was the first person I've seen her get that close to in   years."

"You don't think she's close to you? And Emmett? And your mother and brother?"

"Of course she is, but only by default, and only because she can't very   well stop loving us." She dropped her gaze and shook her head. "I think   it was okay for Abram to die, because she knew going in that it was   going to happen. But God forbid anything should happen to any of us. I'm   not sure she'd survive another tragedy."

Completely forgetting that he was talking to a sixteen-year-old, Sam   asked, "Then what makes you think adding a husband and child for her to   worry about won't send Willa over the edge?"

Jennifer sighed. "My own parents haven't had a very … mutually supportive   relationship, but I've had many wonderful examples of the power of true   love. Emmett lost his wife, Gretchen, to cancer a little more than  three  years ago. What I learned from them is that when two people love  each  other that deeply, anything is possible, even continuing on alone.   Emmett misses Gretchen immensely, but every breath he's taken since  she  died has been filled with her spirit."

She lifted her beautiful little chin in exact mimic of Willa. "I don't   intend to settle for anything less than that kind of love for myself.   Nor will I let my aunt spend the rest of her life hiding from it. I may   have lost my foot five years ago, but she's the one who was crippled."   She reached out and touched his arm.

"You're my only hope, Sam. Please, will you help me help her?"

Sam found himself staring into eyes as desperate as the ocean was deep   and as old as the earth, and suddenly he couldn't breathe, much less   speak.

"Abram gave you the most powerful tool he had, Sam. His bequest is your trump card, if you decide to play it."

"It's also my greatest obstacle, Jennifer. Willa thinks I want to marry her to get those shares and to keep our home."

He stiffened as several pieces of the puzzle unexpectedly fell into   place. "My God," he whispered. "You helped Bram draft that damn will."

She looked away. "I don't know anything about that sort of legal stuff."

"No, but you know Willa. You certainly knew she'd never let Tidewater   fall into the hands of a man who wants to destroy it. You helped my   grandfather write his last will and testament in a way that Willa's   conscience wouldn't let her ignore."

The teenager brought her gaze back to his, her expression mutinous. "She   needed a swift kick in the butt! You have no idea what it's been like   for me these last five years. Guilt can be contagious, you know." She   thumped herself on the chest. "How in hell am I supposed to get on with   my life when my aunt won't get on with hers? I can never be free until   she's free."                       
       
           



       

Sam had never considered what Willa's self-reproach might be doing to   those around her. Of course, anyone who loved her would share her   pain-especially Jennifer.

"Is your aunt aware of how you feel?" he asked softly.

Jennifer shrugged, then pulled the key out of the ignition and opened   her door. "I've been waiting for the right man to help her figure that   out."

"Where are we going?" he asked, opening his own door and getting out.   She gave him a cheeky grin across the hood of her truck. "I thought you   might want to buy some lobsters for your and Emmett's supper tomorrow   night. And since we're here, I also thought I'd give you a few pointers   on courting." She motioned toward the warehouse, which was a fish  co-op.  "Steven works here. If I want him to take me to the homecoming  dance, I  suppose I should ask him to, shouldn't I?"

Sam choked on a bark of laughter. He strode around the truck, slipped   Jennifer's arm through his, and sauntered toward the side entrance. "I   tell you what. If Steven is intelligent enough to say yes, I will fly   you and your mother toNew York on Tidewater's private jet and take you   shopping for a dress for the dance."

"Deal!" she said with delight. She batted her eyelashes at him. "But I   should warn you, I've been accused of having expensive tastes."

"No problem," Sam drawled. "I've managed to tuck away some of my   paychecks over the years. And if that's not enough, I'm sure my brothers   won't mind kicking in a few bucks."

Sam sat at the small, battered table, in the exact same chair his   grandfather had sat in to record his good-bye video. The cottage was   dark except for the moonlight coming through the windows, it washalf   past eleven , and he was waiting for Willa to get home from her date   with Barry Cobb.

Tonight's dinner conversation in the old Kent homestead had ranged from   Cody's decision to try out for next year's Odyssey of the Mind, to   Emmett's new keel design he was working on, to whether Sam though the   Red Sox would play the Yankees in the World Series again this season.   The only thing not discussed was Willa's blaring absence.

Sam still couldn't believe that Barry Cobb had had the audacity to drive   up to her home that afternoon and boldly ask her out to dinner. Even   more surprising, Willa didn't seem to mind being seen in public not only   with the enemy but with a very eligible bachelor.

The enemy part didn't worry Sam; he figured Willa had agreed to dinner   out of sheer curiosity. He smiled. And maybe also to piss him off. But   what if she was seen by one of the marriage posse? The last thing he   needed was for those damn busybodies to decide that Cobb was the perfect   match for her. Headlights suddenly slashed through the darkness,   briefly illuminating the interior of the cottage before they swung   around to the beachfront and stopped. Sam smiled again when he heard a   car door immediately open and shut and footsteps scampering onto the   cottage porch. The poor bastard wasn't even getting a good-night kiss   for his troubles. The headlights repeated their arcing display in   reverse as the cottage door opened. The interior lights came on, and   Willa let out a scream loud enough to wake the dead. Sam stood up.   "Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."