Kiss Me If You Dare

21

I stood on the porch, speechless, my feet glued to the boards.

“Come on in,” the happy-as-ever Sam said, gesturing her welcome.

I looked past her into the kitchen, made warm and inviting by red accents against the black and tan floor tiles and gold-speckled countertops. Naturally, Sam was in her element with the ’50s décor.

I stepped closer for a peek at the ceiling. The asbestos tiles were gone. Soaring walls gave a spacious feel to the room. My eyes narrowed and my jaw set. That had been my idea. I was going to do that. Who did she think she was, stealing my house and my decorating ideas?

Behind me, I sensed Puppa’s hesitation. His hand nudged my arm, but not to prompt me forward. I could tell he wanted to pull me by the elbow back to the truck and fly down the drive at high speed. And if it weren’t for the anger that kept my attention on the woman before me, I would have gratefully complied.

But seeing Sam in my home, at my place at the door, just didn’t set right with me. No. So what if the last time we’d been together she’d saved my life?

A white flash shot through my brain and I was back in the great room of the lodge that terrible morning. One of the gunmen pointed his weapon my way, I heard a growl like a mother tiger, then Sam pounced the guy, his weapon discharging into my arm instead of my heart.

A cold wind rushed around me, permeating my California slicker and sending shivers through my body. If that flicker of memory was accurate, I’d been shot by one of Majestic’s cronies, not Candice LeJeune like I’d thought all these months.

But I could still see Candice with her weapon raised, hear the blast of the gun… If she hadn’t shot me, then who?

I swayed, my legs turning to jelly beneath me.

“Hey, you don’t look so good.” Sam reached for me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and guiding me into the house. The tiles passed strobelike beneath my feet, then we were through the arch and in the great room. She stood me in front of a recliner near the crackling fire. I collapsed into the soft leather, my eyes inundated by the towering Christmas tree, the draping garland, the twinkling lights. My ears flooded with the voice of Bing Crosby, “… may your days be merry and bright…”

I couldn’t take it. This was so wrong.

Sam passed me a glass of water. My hand automatically reached for it, but my mouth refused her hospitality. She gave Puppa a worried look. “Is your friend okay?” “Samantha…,” he began.

I set the glass on a coaster and stood, my anger giving me strength.

“Samantha Walters, isn’t it?” I held out my hand, forcing it to hold steady.

She nodded, a confused look on her face. “Russo now,” she said.

Don’t tell me Puppa adopted her. Maybe that’s why she thought she owned this place.

I gave a tight smile. “I’m Tasha Stewart.”

Samantha met my hand in a loose grip.

“Mr. Russo there,” I smiled in Puppa’s direction, “promised I could have a tour of the lodge. But now probably isn’t a good time. We’ll just be going.”

At Sam’s questioning glance, Puppa shrugged. I made it two steps toward the arch when a man clomped down the open staircase, humming along with Bing.

“Hello, Papa B.” He smiled at my grandfather and shook his hand. “And you are…?” He turned toward me, hand extended, like he was Mr. Congeniality or something.

I made no move, instead just stared at my cousin Joel. His hand hovered a moment, then returned to his side at my rebuff. His eyes squinted as he studied my face.

Samantha still wasn’t getting it. She jumped in to fill the awkward silence. “Tasha, this is my husband, Joel Russo. Joel, this is Tasha Stewart. Bernard brought her by for a tour.”

Complete silence.

If that didn’t just beat all. Sam and Joel-married. And with his arm around her shoulders like that, pulling her tight like he was trying to protect her from me, why, didn’t they just make the cutest couple? And a baby on the way too.

Joel gave an extended sigh. “Tish. Welcome home. Again.”

“Thanks, cuz.” Buried rage kept the tears at bay. “Try to act happy I’m actually alive.”

Samantha’s eyes grew huge. “Tish? Tish!”

Her stammering came off as a stalling ploy. I could just hear the thoughts running through her head. What would be the best way to react? she was probably asking herself. Should I be excited, like “Oh my goodness, you’re still alive!” or should I be sad, like “Oh my goodness. You’re still alive.”

Her face continued to waver.

A smirk crept over my features as I watched. If I were in her shoes, I’d be mad as a rabid rat. Because what she thought was hers all this time really belonged to me. How dare she take my house, my car, my life?

Her face crumpled and she burst into sobs. Her arms flung around my neck. Long black hair stuck to my cheek, plastered there by tears. “You’re not dead. You’re not dead.” She said it over and over like a chant, swaying back and forth, rocking me with her.

I lifted my arms, at first trying to push her away. The firm bump of her stomach pressed against me, the fullness of her womb somehow emphasizing the emptiness of mine. But stuck in Sam’s iron grip, I felt myself relaxing, succumbing to her love. After a minute, with my sunglasses digging into my nose, I managed to slide out of the hug and take them off.

She stared me in the eyes. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

I nodded, not daring to speak.

Behind Samantha, Joel looked at me stone-faced.

What softening I’d felt a moment ago evaporated and I seethed in his direction. There was the guy who had torn my mother’s picture in two because he didn’t want his long-lost cousin moving in on his turf.

But tearing up photos and burying empty caskets didn’t change the facts. This place-this house, this land-belonged to me, not him. I bought it from Puppa fair and square. It was mine, and mine alone.

“I love what you’ve done with the place.” I sounded husky, like Cruella de Vil.

Samantha snuggled into Joel. “Thanks. It’s exactly the way you described it to Joel last spring. He wanted to-” she paused and swallowed, “-honor your memory by sticking to your ideas.”

“How sweet of you, Joel.” Evil dripped from my voice. Grandfather’s hand grabbed my elbow again, as if ready to escort me out at the first sign of violence.

So what if I was a little sarcastic, a little snippy? Who wouldn’t be in these circumstances? Sam and Joel were lucky I didn’t throw them out right now. Maybe if she weren’t pregnant, I would.

“So, Samantha, when’s the little whippersnapper due?” Bitterness, hatred… all the negative emotions welled up in my voice. It was as if the past seven months hadn’t even happened. Everything I’d learned in the Revamp Program, all the classes, the journaling, the working with others, the learning to live together, the improving my attitude, the changing my outlook… I might as well have spared myself the agony. Because when it came down to it, I was just plain jealous. I was just plain mean. And the worst part was, I didn’t even care how bad anyone else got hurt.

“March ninth,” she whispered.

Joel wrapped his arms around her.

“You two didn’t waste any time.” I glanced around. “I suppose you figured you had a lot of rooms to fill.”

Sam looked at Joel, as if begging him to make me stop.

Puppa stepped to the plate. “It’s time to go, Patricia. Put your sunglasses on and meet me in the truck.”

A final nasty glare and off I stomped. The moment the kitchen door slammed behind me, I burst into tears. It was good that Puppa stopped my downward spiral. Who knew what had been about to come out of my mouth next?

I scrunched down in the front seat of the truck. What was my problem, anyway? Joel had bent over backward for me last spring, and almost been killed in the showdown at the lodge that morning. No wonder he and Sam got married right away. Life was too short to dillydally. And what had I been thinking? Their new baby would be blood to me, a second cousin twice removed or some such thing. I’d better have an apology ready next time I saw the new parents if I wanted to watch the little sweety grow up.

My grandfather climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The diesel roared to life. He backed up and started out the driveway.

The last time I’d been here, summer was just around the corner. Green grass, green leaves, a comfy seventy degrees. Now everything was white again. Snow on the ground, snow in the pines, snow in the clouds.

And last time, I’d been driving Brad’s SUV. I’d taken it right down this driveway, past the emergency vehicles, and onto the highway. I’d driven and driven and driven west, hoping to get to Del Gloria. But there’d been the pain in my arm, some blood on my sleeve, and a heavy fog in my mind. I must have been hanging on by a thread when I smashed into the back of that minivan somewhere in Minnesota.

I gave Puppa a sidelong glance. “So how’d Brad’s car do? Did it get fixed up okay?” Maybe I should have started with an apology for my earlier behavior, but I couldn’t even deal with it yet.

“Brad’s vehicle pulled through just fine.” No inflection in his voice.

“Sheesh.” I laughed in embarrassment. “Brad must have been so mad.”

“When you’re dead, the condition of the car doesn’t matter much.”

“That’s right. I supposedly died in that crash.” I met Puppa’s eyes. “Was Brad really torn up? I mean, he was sad, right? But he’s good now? He’s okay? And he doesn’t have a girlfriend or anything like that, right?”

Puppa stared at the road straight ahead. He sniffled and his words came out all scratchy. “I’m glad you’re alive, Patricia. It’s so good you’re alive.”

I left him alone the rest of the way, not wanting to see my grandfather cry.