Page 8 of Love Story

“Nothing.”

Harriet stood there, framed by the light, and this first glimpse of her tugged at something in my chest, stirring a memory I hadn’t revisited in years, but I had spent three or four happy summers in Caldwell Crossing before my parents divorced.And now I was back.

Desperate to feel that same summer peace.

Even if it was February.

“You okay to get inside?”Sam’s voice was low and even, but there was a softness in it that made me glance at him.I hesitated, unsure if my legs would cooperate.He must have read something in my hesitation because he was already out of the truck, rounding it to my side.The door opened, and his hands were there, helping me down with a firmness that didn’t leave room for argument.

I didn’t protest as he slipped an arm around me, steadying me as we made our way to the door.Harriet stepped forward, her arms wide as if she could take all of me in at once.She was spry for eighty-two, and her short gray bob and glasses gave her the librarian frown I remembered as a kid.She carried the comforting scent of buttery cakes and lavender, a familiar blend that struck me with an ache so deep I nearly cried.I clung to her like a toddler.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she said, her voice full of worry as she reached for me and guided me inside.“Thank you, Sam.”

“Ma’am,” Sam said in a charming, laid-back tone.They talked a little, but it was brief.The door shut behind me, and when I turned around, he was already gone.

Harriet pulled me into the front room, her fussing in full force.The warmth of the open fire hit me first, the crackling logs casting a glow across the cozy space.She tugged at my coat, her hands deft but gentle.

“Let me get that off you,” she said, helping me out of Sam’s coat.I hadn’t realized I was still wearing it until the sugary scent of pine and woodsmoke faded.

“Come, for goodness sake, sit down,” she scolded, smoothing the coat over her arm before draping it on the back of a chair.“Joe delivered your car, and when I saw the fender, the way it was cracked…”

“I’m okay,” I reassured.

“I bet you’re glad it wasn’t your Porsche.”

“Yeah.”She didn’t have to know that I’d sold that heap of nothing, swapping it for my Prius and feeling better for it.

“Well, you’re here now.”

I let her guide me to the worn couch near the fire, sinking into the cushions as the heat began to thaw me out.Harriet disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something about cocoa and blankets.Before I knew it, she returned, handing me a mug filled to the brim with steaming hot chocolate.

“Drink,” she ordered, sitting beside me, her sharp eyes scanning me.“And don’t think you’re getting out of explaining yourself.What on earth happened?”

“I was lost, checked my navigation, and took my eye off the road and… yeah.My fault.”

“You were lucky Sam found you.How did you even end up on the road to Stonebridge Farm?”

“I wish I knew.”

She pursed her lips.“I wrote you directions from the interstate.”

“I know, and stupidly, I left them in Boston and had to use the navigation on my phone, which… yeah…”

At the reminder, panic surged through me.I needed my phone for the lawyer and the feds… but everything had been in the car.

“I need to get my phone—”

“Sit down, Joe fetched in your luggage, and your phone is on charge in the kitchen.I had to borrow a charger from Gladys next door, but she told me her son said it was the right one, so, anyway, drink up—let’s get you settled.”

I sipped the cocoa, the warmth spreading through me with each swallow.Harriet kept fussing—adjusting the throw she’d draped over my knees, brushing away invisible crumbs from the table, hovering like only a great aunt could.It could have been overwhelming, but it was just what I needed.

I missed Sam’s sweet-smelling coat, though.

And Sam.

I HAD TOleave Harriet’s place before I did something stupid, like stay and make sure Ben was okay.He didn’t need a grown man fussing over him, but after I left, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.He’d felt so small in my arms, light but solid, like he was holding himself together with sheer stubbornness.When he’d nodded off in the truck, his head tilted toward me, trusting me, all vulnerable and sleepy.He’d been happy to let me take him anywhere, too tired to argue, and that stuck with me for some reason.It had been a long time since someone had let me care for them like that, even for a moment.

He’d mumbled in his dream, something about someone promising to protect him.

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