Between Sisters - Kristin Hannah [100]
He wanted to stop her, but didn't know how. “I'm glad you came last night.”
She laughed. “Me, too. Twice.”
“Don't,” he said, moving toward her. He had no idea what—if anything—was between them, but he knew it wasn't a joke.
She looked at the door again, then up at him. “I can't stay, Joe.”
“See you later, then. Good-bye.” He waited for her to answer, but she didn't. Instead, she kissed him. Hard. He was breathless by the time she pulled back, whispered, “You're a good man, Joe.”
Then she was gone.
Joe went to the window and watched her leave. She practically ran to her car, but once she was there, she paused, looking back at the house. From this distance, she looked oddly sad. It made him realize how little he knew her.
He wanted to change that, wanted to believe there was a future for him after all. Maybe even one with her.
But he'd have to let go of the past.
He didn't know how to do all of it, how to start a life over and believe in a different future, but he knew what the first step was. He'd always known.
He had to talk to Diana's parents.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
MEGHANN PARKED THE CAR AND GOT OUT. A QUICK glance up at the house told her that no one was home. The lights were all out. She rammed her panty hose into her handbag and ran barefoot across the lawn, then slipped quietly into the darkened house.
Thirty minutes later, she was showered, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, and packed. On her way out, she paused long enough to write Claire a quick note, which she left on the kitchen counter.
Claire and Bobby
Welcome home.
Love, Meg.
She drew a funny picture of a pair of martini glasses alongside her name, then paused, took one last look at the house that was so much a home. It was unexpectedly difficult to leave. Her condo was so cold and empty by comparison.
Finally, she went to her car and drove slowly through the campground.
The place was quiet this early on a Sunday morning. There were no children in the pool, no campers walking around. A lonely pair of fishermen—father and son by the looks of them—stood at the riverbank, casting their lines toward the water.
At the property line she turned right onto a rutted gravel road. Here, the trees grew closer together, their towering limbs blocking out all but the hardiest rays of morning sunlight. Finally, she came to the clearing, a horseshoe-shaped yard full of oversize rhododendrons and humongous ferns. A gray mobile home squatted on cement blocks in the middle of the yard, its front end accentuated by a pretty cedar deck. Pots of red geraniums and purple petunias were everywhere.
Meghann parked the car and got out. As always, she felt a tightening in her stomach when she thought about meeting Sam. It took a concerted effort to look at him and not remember their past.
Go. Just leave.
You're just like your Mama.
She gripped her purse strap and walked up the gravel walkway and onto the porch, which smelled of honeysuckle and jasmine on this June morning.
She knocked, too softly at first. When no one answered, she tried again. Harder this time.
The door swung open, hinges creaking, and there he was, filling the doorway, dressed in shabby overalls and a pale blue T-shirt that read: River's Edge. His brown hair was Albert Einstein wild.
“Meg,” he said, clearly forcing a smile. He stepped back. “Come on in.”
She sidled past him and found herself in a surprisingly cozy living room. “Good morning, Sam. I'm here to pick up Alison.”
“Yeah.” He frowned. “Are you sure you want to take her this week? I'd be happy to keep her.”
“I'm sure you would,” she answered, stung. It was too much like the other time.
“I didn't mean anything by that.”
“Of course not.”
“I know how busy you are, though.”
She looked at him. “You still think I'm a bad influence, is that it?”
He took a step toward her, stopped. “I should never have thought that. Claire's told me how good you were to her. I didn't know about kids back then, and I sure as hell didn't know about teenage girls who—”
“Please. Don't finish that sentence. Do you have a list for me? Allergies.