Page 5 of Off-Limits Love
Mak shook her head and downed another swallow of her rapidly cooling coffee. “No, just that she followed Max because she was afraid Max would run away.”
Sam lifted an arthritic hand and scratched at his balding head. “Well, Max does like to wander, but he never goes too far. If I had to bet, I’d say Max headed over there to visit his friend.”
“His friend?” Mak asked, sliding a glance at the dog in question. Max lazed on the porch floor in a strip of early morning sunlight, eyes closed and snoozing as though the adventure had exhausted him as well.
Sam waved a hand toward the woods where Finn Blackwell had disappeared last night after being released by the police. “She’s on the Blackwell farm over there. A little Highland.”
She blinked at Sam. “A Highland? As in a cow?”
Sam chuckled at her surprise. “Now, don’t judge. Ever since Finn brought Harriet onto the farm, Max’s gone visiting.”
Visiting?
Sam’s deeply lined face broke into a wide grin at whatever expression she wore.
“Max climbs right up on Harriet’s back to go for rides. Finn’s shown me a few pictures over the months. It’s cute.”
She laughed at the mental image and then frowned at the reminder of the man who’d ran over last night only to be handcuffed and questioned. “Speaking of your neighbor, I still feel so bad about what happened. You should’ve let me go after Emi. If you’d been here, you’d have been able to tell the police who he was.”
“Ah, well. Can’t be undone now. A lot of the cops know Finn because of the farm and market but obviously not all of ‘em. Just bad luck they were the ones who showed up last night.”
Her heart tugged with empathy. Embarrassment had rolled off Finn Blackwell in waves, and she’d hated the way he’d avoided her gaze. Like her presence witnessing the act had made it so much worse. “I understand why the police did what they did, I do, but I still feel bad about it.”
“I know how you can make it up to him,” Sam said. “Make him some of those brownies and cupcakes like you made last week. That’ll do the trick for sure.”
She slid her uncle a look, lips curling at the obvious tactic. “I think you’re the one who wants more of them.”
“Well, I do,” he admitted. “But you could make extra for Finn and take them over to be neighborly. Would probably go over good for an apology.”
Mak looked at Sam and nodded even as her breath hitched in her chest. She’d make Sam as many of the sweets and meals as he wanted, especially when it was the least she could do after he’d taken them in.
The next year or so was going to be the most difficult of her life, but she didn’t see how anyone with a heart could refuse. “I’ll go get started on them before Emi wakes up. You want more coffee?”
“You spoil me,” Sam said, holding out his cup.
Mak swallowed back the lump in her throat and stood. She took his empty mug from him with an averted gaze to hide the sheen of tears threatening to turn into a torrent.
She walked inside to refill their mugs and then slowly carried Sam’s back to him, using the time in between to stitch together her shredded emotions.
Losing track of Emi last night… Knowing Sam’s time was short.
Both were things that just happened in life—could happen to anyone, at any time—but they were hard things that sucked the joy from a person’s days.
He’d always just been Uncle Sam, who visited on holidays and doted on her whenever they were together. He sent birthday cards for her and Emi and checked on them several times a year.
Sam had increased contact after her mom had died of pneumonia and her father had remarried shortly thereafter. And since she and Emi had arrived, Mak and Sam had grown closer than ever.
Maybe Sam had always been the sweet man he appeared to be or maybe that came as a result of him knowing the end was so near. Either way, he’d been the best thing to happen to her and Emi. A safe, soft spot to land in the chaos when she’d needed one most.
Once Sam had his refill, she pushed her dark thoughts aside and gathered all the ingredients and equipment needed to make Sam’s favorite treats.
She loved losing herself in baking and took special care to make her creations into tiny works of art. From the baked goods to the frostings to the details, she lost herself to the process.
Baking was her escape from reality. One that came second only to reading the romance novels that depicted healthy, loving relationships so unlike the one she’d experienced in her marriage to Brad.
Hours later, Mak drove down Sam’s sand-and-gravel driveway to the highway. It was a quick on-and-off to get to the next turnoff for Blackwell Farm.
The large sign at the end of the road listed horseback riding on the beach, a small-animal petting zoo, photo ops to cuddle the various animals, and venue rental as available options.
