“What are you taking on, Digger?” She stopped to let the impact of her words sink in. “Josh tried to save you, but he didn’t. You died with him in that accident. It’s why you push me away. Why you want to be with me, but all of you is never here.”

  He couldn’t deny it. “I think it’s really time for me to leave now.”

  She moved past him and pulled the door open. He looked at it and back at her. Then he walked to the door and stopped.

  “There is one thing I couldn’t control,” he told her. “In all the time I was fighting you and trying to stay away from you.” He ran his hand down her cheek. “It didn’t work. I fell in love anyway. I love you.”

  He went through the door then, pulling it closed behind him.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erin didn’t know how she got through the next week or how she managed to keep her depression from showing. How could she have let this happen? She knew better. Knew the danger. Yet she hadn’t stopped it. She’d gone with Digger when she should have refused. They should never had kissed, never made love, never fallen in love.

  By Saturday she was more miserable than she’d ever thought she could be. And the worst part was, she couldn’t wear it. She had to hide it from everyone, including Sam and Gillian. She’d seen Digger every day; he’d come to the building site, worked side-by-side with the men, but the yard that separated her from him was as wide as the Sahara. They hadn’t looked at each other, hadn’t waved or even acknowledged that the other existed.

  “I love you,” he’d said. Digger’s words still reverberated around in her head. “I love you.” She heard it over and over. But it wasn’t Digger’s voice that disturbed her.

  It was her own.

  She was in love with him. How could she have let this happen? When she knew the consequences, knew the hurt falling in love would bring. This time it would be worse. Erin had thought she’d been in love before. She’d been prepared to marry Kent Edwards and spend her life with him. Yet he’d never inspired the fire Digger had.

  I love you. Those three little words were as present as if Digger had only said them a moment ago, while nearly a week had passed, almost an anniversary.

  Erin looked at Sam sitting on the floor. The television was on, but Sam seemed bored with it. Erin had a pang of guilt that she was neglecting Sam. Erin had problems, but she was better equipped to deal with them than a four-year-old.

  “Sam, why don’t we go for a swim?”

  The little girl nodded and stood up. Together they dressed and headed for the backyard. Erin was glad there was a pool to distract them both. The water would be refreshing. She hoped it would lift her spirits as much as Sam’s. Both of them were in need of a day without memories.

  “You can lay the picture here where you can see it.” Erin indicated the patio table. Sam looked at the photo then laid it down. Erin anchored it with a small rock. They sat on the side of the pool, their feet in the water.

  Sam kicked the water. Erin closed her eyes and moved her head to avoid the playful splashing. She smiled at the little girl. When they jumped in, Sam kicked her feet and moved her arms as if she were swimming, though Erin propelled her through the three-foot depth.

  “Swimmin,” she shouted. Erin walked from side to side, carrying Sam as she mock-swam across the width of the pool. She was light in the water, but Erin gave her full attention to Sam to keep Digger off her mind. The two played for several more minutes. Erin pulled Sam into her arms and turned circles in the water. Sam laughed, a sound that was especially appreciated after weeks of sullenness.

  Finally, Erin set her on the tiled edge of the pool and hopped up on it too.

  “Again,” Sam said.

  “In a minute. I need to rest.”

  Sam kicked the water with her feet. Erin kicked, too. She liked the feel of the liquid against her legs. It wouldn’t be long before the blistering heat sent them both back into the water or into the air-conditioned house.

  “Where’s Digger?” Sam asked, out of the blue.

  Erin looked around quickly in case Sam had seen him. Erin was hungry for the look of him, hungry for the smell and taste of him. Her stomach dropped at the mention of his name.

  “Honey, sometimes things don’t work out with people. I don’t think we’ll be seeing Digger again.”

  “He not like us.”

  Erin put her arms around Sam. “Sure he likes us. He’s just busy. When he finishes at the school he’ll have to work at other places.”

  “We go other places.”

  “It would be dangerous. We could get hurt.” Erin remembered how angry Digger had been the day Sam had run into the yard. And the story about his son dying at a construction site. She would miss Digger, but there was nothing she could do about the situation. She’d accepted her fate, and he’d be better off without her.

  Erin slipped back into the water, taking Sam with her. The pool was deliciously cool and Sam loved the water. She was smiling, coming out of her shell. Each day she was a little closer to being the little girl Erin knew and loved. Sam had a full life in front of her. Erin would make sure nothing happened to her for as long as they stayed together.

  She wondered if Luanne had contacted any of Sam’s relatives. Secretly, she hoped Sam could always stay with her. Sam had wormed her way into Erin’s heart years ago. Having her around every day had been wonderful for Erin. She didn’t want to think of Sam leaving, too.

  “Are you alone?” Luanne looked behind Digger as he came in the door.

  Digger arrived for Sunday dinner the same as he had for the past three years. He found Dean and Owen sitting in the living room, bottles of beer in front of them.

  “Who were you expecting?” Digger asked as he dropped down in one of the wingback chairs that faced the sofa and love seat in Luanne’s color-coordinated room.

  “Erin and the little girl. Samantha.”

  “Why would you expect them?”

  “Cause we like Erin,” Dean piped in. “We drove all the way over here just to see her again.” He indicated Owen, who sat in one of the deep living room seats.

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” Digger said drily.

  “I thought you two were a couple,” Dean said. “If you don’t want her, can I have her?”

  Digger threw him a laser-sharp look. “She’s not a stick of furniture,” he snarled. The smile on his brother’s face froze as if they were in the frigid cold of Alaska instead of the blistering heat of a Texas summer.

  “See, Owen, I told you he was in love with her. This proves it.”

  Digger accepted the bottle of beer his brother-in-law handed him and took a long swig of the cold liquid before coming back to the conversation.

  “It proves nothing,” Owen answered.

  “Ask him then. Just ask him.”

  All eyes turned to Digger. They were waiting for an answer. He looked at them one by one.

  “What Erin and I have is none of your business.”

  “We only want you to be happy,” Luanne said.

  “That statement assumes I’m unhappy,” Digger pointed out, taking another drink and nearly emptying the bottle.

  “By the look of you, you’re miserable,” Dean said.

  He was miserable. He hadn’t had a moment’s peace in a week. He didn’t know he could miss someone so much. Erin went to the school every day. He knew she was there, yet he never saw her. Some days it had been almost impossible not to find Erin, apologize for everything he’d said or not said and take her in his arms.

  He wanted to go to her. The need built in him, growing stronger with each day until he thought he’d die, but each morning the sun rose and he dragged himself out of bed. He knew the pain would die. The job would end, and he would be plagued by images of her.

  Even at his house.

  She’d been there only once, but he remembered every detail of her visit, each chair she’d sat in, the glass she’d drank from. The house remembered her, too. He didn’t seem to be able to get her out of his mind. Even the walls and furniture seemed to remember she had been there.

  This couldn’t go on.

  “Wait a minute,” Owen was saying when Digger’s attention was drawn back to the family debate. “I know a way to tell for sure.”

  His gaze was steady, serious, as if he was about to say something profound.

  “Did you tell her about Josh?”

  Digger felt as if he’d been shot between the eyes.

  “This is not a family meeting about me,” he announced. “The entire family’s not even here.” He attempted to both lighten the mood and deflect the question. But Owen wasn’t letting the subject drop.

  “If necessary, we’ll get them on a conference call. Now answer the question.”

  He nodded. “I told her.” Digger paused a second, deciding if he should go on. It was obvious now. “I’m in love with her.”

  A whoop of joy rang through the small room as everyone moved to congratulate him.

  “But—” Digger cut them off. “Nothing will be done about it.”

  “Why not? She’s in love with you, too. Anybody with eyes can see that.”

  Digger wasn’t so sure. He’d told Erin he loved her. She’d looked shocked, stunned, as if he’d announced he was leaving for the moon. She’d said neither of them wanted to be married. So that ended it. He didn’t want to be married, and she agreed with him. His family couldn’t change that.

  “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s really none of your business,” Digger said a second time.

  “When did that ever stop us from talking? So spill it. What’s the real reason?”

  Digger looked at his hands, then at each of his family members. He knew he could tell them secrets, and they’d keep them. They had a special bond that existed in all families, but because his had been formed from the throw-outs of others their bond was especially close.

  “I’m afraid,” he said quietly. “I can’t live through another Josh and Marita.”

  Luanne quickly held her hand up when Owen was about to respond. She cut everyone off with a look.

  Coming to Digger she sat down on the coffee table and faced him. Her back was to their brothers who watched in silence.

  “We support you,” she began. “In whatever you decide. We are your family and we, too, share the loss of Josh and Marita. We wouldn’t want you to go through that again.”

  “But living means risking,” Owen joined in. He took a seat next to Luanne.

  “Erin and Sam aren’t Marita and Josh,” Luanne said. “We’re close to finding Sam’s great-aunt. Erin will be free and so are you.”

  “But if you’re not ready to risk your heart,” Owen said, “you’ll have to wait until the time is right.”

  They weren’t saying anything Digger hadn’t already told himself. Except the part about timing. Would the time ever be right? Would this burning for her go away? He didn’t know and, while his family could support his decisions, they couldn’t go through the feelings for him. He had to do that alone.

  Erin took Sam’s hand as they crossed River Avenue and headed for the Cobblersville Hospital. The hospital wasn’t large by big-city standards. Community Medical of Cobblersville was a two-story, 300-bed facility equipped to deal with normal surgery and minor emergencies. Anything major was air-lifted to Austin.

  Erin had rarely entered the hospital for anything other than visiting maternity patients and meeting Gillian. Gillian was the reason she and Sam were here today. The two of them were meeting Gillian for lunch. Erin could have parked in the hospital parking lot, but there were no shade trees and the temperature was already in the nineties. Gillian had promised to meet her at the front door.

  Erin had felt the humidity the moment they stepped out of the van, but inside, the building was cool and smelled of disinfectant. Ahead of them, past the stark white reception desk, was a long bench. Erin led Sam to it, smiling at the receptionist whom she knew only as Abby. Before she could sit down she heard her name called. The voice was enough to send chills up her spine. She turned around.

  “Hello, Kent.” She smiled brightly as if she was glad to see him. He’d just come through the door, a large bouquet of flowers under one arm. She glanced at Sam whose hand tightened in hers. “What are you doing here?”

  “Jennifer delivered three days ago. She goes home today.”

  “Congratulations,” Erin said. Sam climbed up on the seat and Erin put her arm around Sam to keep her from falling. “I take it the baby is a boy?” She looked at the blue ribbon on the roses.

  He nodded and beamed. Erin felt inadequate. She wondered if Kent had stopped her to make sure she knew he was a father, and she would never be a mother. Once, she wouldn’t have believed there was a bad bone in his body, but she’d learned better.

  “Who is this? One of your school kids?”

  He looked at Sam. A few weeks ago Sam would have been talkative, introducing herself as Samantha Yvette Pierce and telling him her father sometimes called her Sy. Erin so wanted to tell Kent the child was hers, but she couldn’t. “This is Sam. I’m her foster mother,” she answered.

  “Mother,” Sam said, perking up to the word. She hadn’t spoken voluntarily in a while. Erin was glad to hear it and wanted to encourage her to continue, but the expression on Sam’s face was reason for concern. She looked as if mother was a swearword and reminded her of something awful.

  “Erin, that’s wonderful,” Kent said. “When did you decide to do that?”

  “Not long ago.” She glanced up at Kent then back at Sam.

  “I’m glad.” She looked at his eyes for some sign of insincerity, but he genuinely looked happy for her. “You’re a wonderful woman and you deserve the best.” He reached over and touched one of Sam’s braids. She moved further behind Erin as if she were shy. Then he leaned down and kissed Erin’s cheek.

  She froze. Her throat closed off. She realized she hadn’t any feelings for Kent, not like the feelings she had for Digger. She wouldn’t have thought it possible a week ago, even a few moments ago, but she forgave him for his treatment of her. She wouldn’t accept all the blame for their failed relationship. There had been a miscommunication, a serious one and she should have known better than to get involved. But he had taught her a lesson. One that was very valuable and that she would always remember. She had remembered—until she met Digger.

  “I’d better get upstairs now,” Kent said.

  Erin nodded. “Give my best to Jennifer.”

  “I will.”

  As Kent moved out of sight Digger came into view. He stared at her. Erin had the feeling he’d been there a while, watching them. She knew he’d seen Kent kiss her. Why did he look as if he wanted to hit something? He’d left her standing in her living room with an epitaph that required further explanation. Erin hadn’t asked for it and she wouldn’t now.

  The air in the room took on a charge. For a long moment neither moved or said a word. They only stared. Erin didn’t know how long that would have gone on. She would never know. Sam dislodged her arm and jumped to the floor. She didn’t speak or shout Digger’s name the way she often did. She ran to him in silence, her tennis shoes making soft crepe sounds on the polished floor.

  Digger opened his arms and she climbed into them, pressing her face against his shoulder. He held her, too, the way Erin was becoming used to seeing him do, as if she were a precious doll. He did it with his eyes closed, holding her carefully and taking in the baby-powder smell of her.

  He opened his eyes and looked straight into Erin’s. This time there was no mask to hide his expression, only his unguarded love.

  It took all of Erin’s resolve not to rush across the tiles and throw herself into the open space left by Sam. She’d never wanted anything more in her life. But she looked away, breaking the connection that held her in place. She could hear his footsteps. She would have known them in the dark, during a thunderstorm, with a full company from Lackland Air Force Base marching in formation to camouflage the sound. When he stood directly in front of her she steeled herself for the emotional onslaught she knew would overtake her.

  “Sam’s missed you,” she said. Her throat was dry, and her voice scratchy. She wondered if he heard the underlying message that she, too, had missed seeing him.

  Digger glanced at Sam. Her arms continued to clutch his neck as if her life depended on it.

  “I’ve missed her, too.” His eyes never left Erin’s as he spoke. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s coming around. She’s back in her classes but she’s still very quiet.”

  “Is she here to see a doctor?”

  “No.” Erin smiled quickly. “We’re meeting a friend for lunch.”

  Digger nodded.

  As if on cue, Gillian came through the double doors at the end of the hall. While a lot of nurses wore uniforms with pants and jackets, Gillian wore a dress, a short coat and white stockings. How she managed it in the Texas heat Erin didn’t know.

  “Hi,” Gillian said, coming to stop in front of them. “I’m glad you’re both here.”

  Erin knew then that she’d been set up.

  “You’re having lunch with her?” Digger asked.

  “No, she’s not,” Gillian answered before Erin could say anything. “She’s having lunch with you.”

  Both she and Digger stared at Gillian.

  “Give her to me.” Gillian reached for Sam, smoothing her hair back from her face. “Would you like to play with me?”

  “Gillian, I don’t—”

  “Sam and I will be fine. We’re going to the children’s playroom. You and Digger have a good time.”

  Erin didn’t know what to do. Sam looked at her, but made no fuss. The little girl hadn’t been out of her sight in weeks. Sam knew Gillian, who had come by the school and the house. The three of them had played together, tried to roller-blade, swam in the pool and baked cookies. Sam was somewhat comfortable with Gillian, although she hadn’t uttered a word.