The Major And The Librarian

And something most certainly would. Only not what Margaret had in mind. Sam would consider her even more of a cross to bear. And she would have to work even harder at acting as if she didn’t have any feelings for him one way or another.

“Well, then, I supposed we ought to go to the nursery first,” she said, hoping her cheerfulness didn’t sound as false to him as it did to her. “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s not far from here.” She looked at the street sign, then back at the map. “Turn right here, go down to the second intersection and turn left.”

“Emma, if you really want to go back, we can,” he offered. “Just because my mother gets a notion in her head doesn’t mean we have to go along with it. This is supposed to be your day, after all.”

“I know. But I do want to check out the roses at the nursery, and we’re already here.”

“Well, then, let’s go.” He turned out of the agency lot as she had directed, then glanced at her questioningly. “Left at the second intersection?”

“Yes, then down about two miles or so. According to the article I clipped out of the paper, the nursery should be on the right.”

They covered the relatively short distance in virtual silence. Sam seemed perfectly at ease. He leaned back in the driver’s seat, his shoulders relaxed, his long, lightly tanned legs stretched out in front of him as he gripped the steering wheel in a loose hold, his attention focused on the road ahead.

Emma, on the other hand, sat rigidly in her seat, hands clasped knuckle white in her lap, so tense she could hardly draw a breath. She willed herself to say something inane, but the longer she waited, the more impossible it became. She could barely swallow around the nervous flutter in her throat, much less speak.

Sam had given her no reason to feel so uncomfortable in his presence. He hadn’t said or done anything to disparage her. Nor had he given any indication that he would.

He had argued for her staying at his mother’s house when he could have sent her packing. And he had just gone out of his way to make sure they did what she wanted now. All with the deference of a true gentleman.

As if the last time they had been together she hadn’t screamed at him like a madwoman, spewing out her hatred—

“This must be it,” Sam said, jerking her back to the present as he flicked on the turn signal and slowed the car. “Wimberly and Sons Nursery?”

“Yes, Wimberly and Sons Nursery,” she murmured, scrambling to gather her wits about her.

He seemed to have put the past behind him. Unless she succeeded in doing the same, the next few weeks were going to be unbearable.

Sam found a parking space under a leafy oak tree and switched off the engine.

“I won’t be long,” Emma said, reaching for the door handle.

“Take your time. I’m not in any hurry.” He, too, opened his car door.

Emma wasn’t sure what she had expected him to do while she prowled around the nursery’s spacious grounds. Even with the windows rolled down, it was too warm out for him to sit in the car. But he could have gone off on his own in search of something that might catch his interest—the goldfish pond, perhaps. Instead, he seemed quite content to trail after her.

At first, she was overly conscious of his presence close behind her. Gradually, however, as the beauty of the flowering rosebushes for sale captured her interest, she finally began to relax.

“I never realized there were so many different varieties of roses,” he said after a while.

“And they’re all so lovely,” she replied, trailing her fingers over the velvety pale yellow petals of an especially lush blossom.

“Are you looking for one bush in particular?”

“Several, actually. I have only modern hybrids in my garden at home. Now that they’re established, I want to add some Old Garden roses. They bloom only once in late spring or early summer, but they’re known for their wonderful fragrance. That makes their petals an especially favorable addition to potpourri,” she explained, then gestured to a long, wide plot set slightly apart from the others and marked aptly enough, Old Garden Roses. “Ah, here they are.”

Emma eyed the various containers carefully, and soon saw that the bushes she wanted were all available at prices she could afford.

“You’ve found what you were looking for, haven’t you?” Sam asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Yes, I have. But how did you know?”

She glanced at him curiously, but he was still wearing his sunglasses, making it all but impossible for her to determine exactly what he might be thinking.

“The way your eyes lit up. Like a kid on Christmas morning.”

Emma felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“That obvious, huh?”

“Yes, that obvious,” he replied in a kindly tone. “Why don’t I grab one of those little red wagons and help you load up, or will you need more than one?”

“One will be enough,” she assured him with a wry smile.

For just an instant, the ghost of an answering smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Then he turned away to claim a wagon for her.

Feeling oddly lighthearted for the first time since the previous afternoon, Emma went about selecting the new additions to her garden. Two of the Great Maiden’s Blush bushes, known for their ivory coral-centered blooms. Two of the Leda bushes—a smaller, more compact shrub than the Maiden’s Blush featuring shell pink flowers picoteed with crimson. And two of the Tuscany bushes bearing semidouble dark red blooms.

Sam lifted the large, heavy containers into the wagon for her, then pulled it up to the counter where a clerk tallied her bill. Emma gladly wrote a check, her thoughts racing ahead to the following afternoon—the soonest she would be able to start putting her new rosebushes in the ground.

At the car, Emma spread the tarp she had brought over the floor of the trunk, then stood aside while Sam loaded the containers. Luckily, all six fit quite nicely. And thanks to the deep well, Sam was able to close the lid without crushing the tops of the bushes.

“Are you sure they’ll be all right in there?” he asked with obvious concern.

“They may look delicate, but they’re hearty enough and healthy enough to survive a lot worse than a few hours in the trunk of a car. So don’t worry. They’ll be fine,” she assured him as he helped her into the car.

“My mother told me that you really enjoy gardening,” Sam continued as he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Yes, I do, although I’m not sure why. Probably because my mother enjoyed it, and I was the only one around to help her. Everywhere we lived before she died, she always planted something. Usually flowers, but sometimes herbs and vegetables, too…if we moved into a house with a big yard. Even when there was a good chance we wouldn’t be around long enough to see the results of all our hard work. I remember asking her once why she did it. She said it was the only way she could put down roots. All she ever really wanted was to live in one place and have a home of her own, but she never did.”

“You moved around a lot when you were a kid?” Sam asked.

At first, Emma was surprised by his question. She had always assumed he knew as much about her background as Teddy had. Now she realized that wasn’t necessarily so.

Sam had gone off to the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs a year before she and his brother became friends. Granted, he had seen her with Teddy on the rare occasions when he’d been home on leave. But he’d probably had more important things to discuss with his younger brother than the shy little redhead Teddy had taken under his wing.

“Until my mother died,” she replied. “My father had a hard time hanging on to a job. He was always looking for something better, somewhere else. My mother insisted on trailing after him even though she hated always having to start over in a strange place. She loved him so much, and I suppose he loved her, too. But he was never there for her when she really needed him. After a while, the loneliness got to be too much for her and she started drinking.”

Pausing for a moment, Emma stared out the window, recalling a time when her home had been anything but the haven she craved. Clasping her hands in her lap, she drew a breath and pushed back the painful memory of her mother lying on the floor in a drunken stupor.

“She died when I was twelve,” Emma continued matter-of-factly, determined to head off any show of sympathy from Sam. “We were here in San Antonio at the time, but my father was getting ready to move on again. He claimed he couldn’t look after me on his own and dumped me into a foster-care program. I was lucky enough to be placed with the Gruenwalds in Serenity, and except for the years I spent at the university in Austin, I’ve been there ever since. Putting down roots of my own, I suppose.”

“And you’re happy living in such a small town?”

“More than happy,” Emma stated succinctly.

Nothing on earth could tempt her to relive—ever again—the constant upheaval of her childhood years. That was why marrying Teddy had been so important to her. He offered her the kind of stability she needed, and now, although she didn’t have the family she’d always wanted, she had a home of her own. And lonely though it sometimes was, she had long ago convinced herself that was all she really needed.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Sam mused as he shifted into gear and pulled out of the nursery’s lot. “The place used to give me claustrophobia. In fact, I couldn’t wait to get away.”

“I know…” she murmured, then barely caught herself before she added that was what Teddy had told her once. She wasn’t ready to bring him into their conversation yet. Instead, she added, “My foster sisters at the Gruenwalds’ felt exactly the same way. I’m the only one of the four of us who stayed in Serenity. Jane lives in Seattle with her husband and son—my little godson. Megan lives in San Diego with her husband and son. And last I heard, Kathleen was living in New Orleans. Of course, that was almost a year ago. She’s always liked to move from place to place, so she could be anywhere by now.”

“Jane is the one who stayed with you last year, isn’t she? My mother mentioned her in her letters. She also said the two of you went up to Seattle to visit them about six weeks ago.”

“That’s right. We did.”

“Point me toward the needlepoint shop, then tell me about Jane and your trip to Seattle.”

Emma guided Sam back to the freeway and told him which exit to watch for. Then, glad to have something neutral to talk about, she explained briefly how Jane, and eventually her husband, Max, had come to stay with her in the months before the birth of their baby.

What a time that had been for the two of them. But thanks to the power of their love for each other, Jane and Max had solved their problems.

As Emma had six months ago, she wished that could be true for everyone, herself included. Of course, she didn’t say as much to Sam. That could open the door to questions she didn’t want to answer. So she gave him the facts, then went on to talk about the lovely time she and Margaret had had in Seattle.

“So you liked it there,” he said.

“I loved it there. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been.”

“But you absolutely, positively wouldn’t ever want to live there?”

“Well, no…” Emma began, then hesitated as she looked out the window.

Actually, she had considered that possibility while she was there, imagining more than once what it might be like to live in one of the high-rise condos within walking distance of Elliott Bay and the Pike Street market or to ferry over from a little cottage on one of the islands as Jane and Max did. Though their house was anything but a cottage—

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Well, it was awfully nice there. I guess I wouldn’t mind it too much,” she admitted.

“I imagine roses would grow rather nicely there,” Sam said, the barest hint of teasing in his tone.

“Rather nicely, indeed.” Emma gazed out the window thoughtfully, then added, “Still, I was really glad to get home again.”

“Most people usually are. Especially when home is where their heart is.” He paused for only a moment, giving her no time to reply, and when he continued, he changed the subject without seeming to miss a beat. “Looks like we’re getting close. Where do you think we should park?”

Relieved that Sam didn’t expect any reply to his comment, Emma directed him to a small parking lot down a side street near one of the entrances to the Riverwalk. From there, it was only a short walk to the needlepoint shop. Picking up Margaret’s supplies took less than ten minutes since the clerk had the package ready and waiting.

Emma assumed they would go straight back to the car again, but out on the Riverwalk Sam halted, looking around at the milling crowds as he tucked the brown paper bag under his arm.

“I don’t remember this place being so busy. At least not on a Sunday afternoon,” he said.

“San Antonio has become a popular tourist town. Companies from around the country have also begun holding conferences here. Lots of shops and restaurants have opened up along the river over the past few years.”

“Do you mind if we take a walk along here? Maybe stop and have a cup of coffee?” He gestured toward the famous-name coffee bar on the other side of the narrow river channel, accessible by an old stone bridge about half a mile away.

What Emma really wanted was to quit while they were ahead. So far, they had managed to get along rather well, all things considered. But she didn’t want to push her luck. Leaving now, they would still have almost two hours together.

But Sam seemed so eager to see the sights. And he hadn’t given her any grief about the lengthy amount of time she’d taken at the nursery. Acknowledging that fair was fair, after all, she mustered as much enthusiasm as she could.

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