Chapter 32

Morning probed at her eyes like knives. She tugged the sheet up and rolled over, pressing her face into her pillow in an attempt to hide from its surgical precision. Sergeant nuzzled her neck and she peeked at him. He sat beside the bed, his large head resting on the mattress and staring into her face.

“All right!" she laughed, "I’ll get up. But I’m telling you, it is under duress.”

She rolled to the edge and sat up, searching with her feet for her slippers. Sergeant stretched and moved into the hallway, where he stopped and looked back at her.

“I’m coming!”

At the front door, she stood staring at the carved back of it. The memory of the night before rushed back and an unreasoning fear swept over her. The dog nudged her thigh and she glanced down at him. “Yes, I know but you were no help last night so you’ll have to forgive me if I am a little nervous about opening it.”

The bar was oddly difficult to lift but finally, she had it clear and turned the knob. The morning was bright and sunny, not a single cloud marred cerulean sky. And there was no trace of a mist. She stepped outside and looked off toward the forest. Her cows were scattered here and there. Apparently, her neighbor had already milked them because they seemed perfectly content to silently graze.

For a moment, she could believe that the events of the night before had never happened, that she had fallen asleep in the chair and dreamed the whole thing. And that was even more disturbing thought. Had it been a dream? Did someone actually step out of the mist and into her home? Samantha turned and headed to the barn. Chores would not wait for her to work out her problems.

The next two hours were spent doing things that required very little heavy thinking on her part. She collected eggs and prepared them for taking to town and loaded them in the back of the small wagon with the fresh milk.

Mr. Wainwright was really wonderful neighbor. He always milked her cows when he did his own placing the milk in cans in the wagon for her to take to town. Once a week she made butter from milk that was set aside for churning. Sometime this week she’d have to make butter. The eggs, milk and butter she sold gave her enough to provide some basic needs. Her sewing and working in the store gave her security.

Sam climbed into the hayloft and tossed down fresh hay. As she thought of the store, she sat down on a bale and stared through the open loft door toward the forest. She didn’t have a job to return to as far as she knew. At the moment, she didn’t know if Mr. Parker would keep the store open or not. Working together had been something that they had loved and without his wife, Sam wasn’t sure if he’d have the heart for it now.

Sighing, she stood. It was easy enough to find out. When she went to town she’d stop by and see. As she climbed down the ladder she realized that she was going to have to find another place to sell her merchandise if Mr. Parker wasn’t open for business.

Sergeant met her at the foot of the ladder and blocked her.

“Now what?” she asked, looking around the barn.

A long shadow fell across the floor from the open door and she stepped back, putting her hands up to screen her eyes so she could see. The dark image of a man stood in the doorway, watching her. It was impossible to see who it was with the light in her face but then, he stepped into the barn and the light shifted. He threw up one hand in a casual wave.

“Hello, Samantha,” Rider said.

With one hand Sam reached out and clutched the ladder to steady herself and the other she put against her chest. “Rider! You scared me to death!”

He hurried to her side and took her gently by the elbow. “Here, sit down over there. You look as if you are going to faint.”

He led her to a nearby crate and she sat down. She almost laughed because he was very nearly right. Men popping unexpectedly through doorways was becoming an annoyance she could live without. She took a deep breath and blew it out.

“Rider, what are you doing here in the middle of the day? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Gee, Sam, it’s good to see you, too.”

“Thanks.”

“I saw John in town earlier and he told me you were back. I wanted to see you. . . well, actually, I wanted to apologize. I was a bit crass the last time I saw you. You were obviously upset over the death of Mrs. Parker. I should not have been so insensitive. It is easy to understand how you could be so confused.”

She turned her head to one side and looked up at him. The Rider she knew was not an idiot. He wasn’t stupid, even a little bit. She remembered John’s attempt to prevent Rider from knowing about her ability. Whether or not it had worked wasn’t clear but for some reason, at this moment, Samantha found herself not trusting this penitent Rider.

“Really?” she said.

“Yes,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets and scuffed the floor with one foot. “I behaved badly. John explained later that you and he had been discussing the white beach rumor and a similar murder that happened when you were small. I actually remember that. Your parents were friends of the woman who was killed.”

“He told you that?” she asked, rising from her seat and walking toward the door.

Rider followed. “Yes. It’s easy to see how, under the circumstances, you would confuse the two in your mind. I’m sorry that I reacted to badly.”

Samantha walked to the middle of the yard and stopped with her back to Rider. She snapped her fingers and Sergeant moved between her and Rider. “Well, when did John tell you all this, Rider?”

“What?” he asked.

“When did you have this discussion with John?” She turned and faced him.

He stared at her and she could see the lie forming in his eyes and she hoped, no prayed, that he would not voice it. Whatever her feelings were for Rider, she was certain they would not withstand a lie.

Several minutes passed with only the sound of the wind in the trees. Sergeant sensed the tension and pushed against her legs but she didn’t move. Finally, Rider’s shoulders relaxed and he looked away.

“I didn’t think so.” She turned and continued toward the house, Sergeant followed, keeping Rider behind him.

“Sam, you know it’s impossible.”

She reached the steps.

“SAM! Tell me it’s impossible!”

Taking a deep breath she turned and with a great sadness, looked at him. Something had happened to her vision in the last few days. Everything was so sharp and clear but there were moments when they almost seemed to have a mist surrounding them. She shook her head and the impression vanished.

“I can’t.” Her voice broke and she clenched her fist against her skirt.

Out of the sapphire depths she saw Rider’s own sadness and something else . . . almost a pleading blended with fear. “Sam.”

“I . . .” she swallowed, tossing her head and pulling her shoulders back, “ Because I saw it.”

“Please, Sam.” He moved toward her. “Don’t.”

She snapped her fingers again and this time Sergeant turned to face Rider and snarled. He crouched but held his position. John would have been immensely proud of both of them. Rider stopped mid-stride in shock more than fear.

“Sam, I love you.”

The knot in her chest moved up into her throat and she turned away as her vision clouded.

“Can we talk about this?”

She shook her head, quickly moved to the front door and pushed it open. “You don’t want to hear this, Rider. It all over your face, in every line of your body. You want to live in a world where this doesn’t happen, where there is nothing beyond the mist.”

“Why is that so bad?”

“Because,” she said over her shoulder, “I don’t live there.”

The door closed behind her and she fumbled to push the bar into place.

From the other side of the door he whispered, “Samantha, I love you.”

As the sound hoof beats faded, the tightness in her chest and throat erupted and she collapsed on the rug, in the same spot she had lain the night before.