Unfinished Business - 18

Robyn settled Sam's phone gently back into its cradle, but didn't immediately turn away from it. She'd let her father know that her duties with the Wright's had been expanded and that she would be spending the night at their home.

He had been concerned about what had happened to make her feel as if such a change was necessary. She'd shared the concerns that Mark had made known to her earlier in the evening, telling him that it was really just a precautionary act. She thought about telling him how spooked she'd thought Sam seemed when he'd returned home, but held that back. That wasn't something she really wanted to go into at the moment. She preferred to have a little more time to assimilate the vibes she'd been getting from Sam.

But, in typical fashion, Jeff Sommers had seen right through her. She never ceased to be amazed at the almost 6th sense he had about people in general, and herself in particular. It had always been useless to hide things from him.

In the end she'd explained that she didn't feel that it was a good time to go into it. She wasn't sure if Sam had been worried about things going on outside of his home or inside of it. When she'd first come into the kitchen, she had been certain that it was something on the outside -- perhaps worry over what was happening around him. But as they'd begun to talk and she'd warmed his dinner, her perceptions changed. There was definitely something different about him.

The man was probably just overly tired, she decided, shaking her head to clear it of the odd direction her thoughts were taking. She should just be happy that he'd agreed to the help and move on from there.

As if thinking of him had summoned him, she heard the sound of his footfalls on the steps. He stopped halfway down and stooped so that he could see into the kitchen. His eyes found her in the dimness.

"I didn't want to intrude," he said. His eyes, shadowed by the low lighting, seemed to be waiting for something.

"You're not," she answered, and moved out of the kitchen, through the dining room and toward the staircase beneath him. She didn't want to raise her voice too much lest she awake Beth. "I was actually already done. I wanted Dad to know what was going on tonight. He's really the expert. He'll want to talk to you, then he'll do a bit of investigating to see if what we're seeing is a lot of coincidences or if something is really going on."

"Okay." Sam nodded, a worried frown crossing his brow. He then rose to his full height and gestured back up the staircase. "If you like, I can show you the guestroom."

Robyn studied him a moment before she answered. "If you ever have any concerns, Sam, you don't have to hold them back. Just ask away. I'll do my best to answer you, or at the very least help you find the answers."

He seemed to think about his response for a moment. "Can you tell me why this is happening? Can you tell me if anything is happening of I'm just letting Mark's imagination run away with mine?" A small wry smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he spoke, and she saw the dry humor in his intent gaze.

Feeling warmed by this further evidence of his willingness to trust her, she began to move up the staircase so that she could see him better. "We're going to work on the if tomorrow - whether it is Mark or not. Once we've got the if out of the way, we'll work on the why. We will get to the bottom of this Sam. One way or the other."

His smile broadened. "One way or the other, huh? You're very determined to help us. Are you always this way with your clients? Handing out advise and moral support along with everything else?"

Robyn returned the smile. "Only the special ones."

A small surprised wrinkle appeared in his brow for a moment, then he again nodded up the stairs. "It's getting pretty late. The guest room is this way. Hardly anyone uses it but Mark, these days."

"There's a glowing recommendation," Robyn returned.

Sam rewarded her with a backward glance, turning slightly as they entered the dimness of the upstairs area. He gestured toward a small door that Robyn could barely make out in the shadows. "The linen closet is here, for towels and stuff," he said in a voice barely above a whisper before leading her farther along the corridor.

"You'll have to share a bathroom with Beth, I'm afraid," he informed her as he opened a door beside Beth's. A small night light illuminated the otherwise darkened space. He pulled the door partially closed and backed out. "If you'd like to have a shower tonight you can use the one in my room."

"Thanks. I'll try not to use all of the hot water."

"Thoughtful and she comes to my rescue," Sam murmured, directing her to a door on the opposite side of Beth's.

"This is the guestroom." The warm glow of a bedside lamp spilled into the hallway when he opened the door. The room was fairly plain; being furnished with little more than a bedroom set and simple curtains at the one window. But it was neat and comfortable.

Robyn's perusal of the space brought her gaze to the bed. She'd almost missed the satin color of the gown against the neutral color of the comforter. Full length, with a matching robe, it was stretched across the bottom of the bed alongside a small travel toiletries kit.

"Sam, you didn't have --"

"It's okay," Sam cut her off. "I've an Aunt who insists on giving me these. She says you never know when you're going to need a new toothbrush--"

"I'm not talking about the toothbrush. I'm talking about the gown. An old t-shirt would have been fine. I'm sure . . . " She moved toward the satin garment and picked it up from the bed, surprised when he fingernail caught on a slip of paper in the folds of the fabric. She pulled it out to find that it was a portion of the price tag which was still attached. She turned it over and looked back at him curiously.

Embarrassment and something else that she couldn't define flitted across his face. "It was supposed to be Sandra's. At least I bought it for her. She. . . um. . . didn't want it. If it fits you, go ahead and take it. Consider it my thanks for trying to help us."

Robyn didn't know what to say. She was sure from the way that he'd spoken that there was much more to the story than he was telling, but she chose not to push him. "Thank you," she said instead. "It's beautiful." She offered a reassuring smile. "You have great taste."

"Right." The grim little upturning of his lips didn't even approach his eyes. "I'm glad you like it."

"I do," Robyn said, adding firmness to her tone. "It was very thoughtful of you. And I apologize if I've dredged up painful memories."

Sam opened his mouth as if to speak, a denial evident in his gaze, but then he stopped. She saw the denial change to something else as he stared across at her. The silence stretched. He shook his head, offering an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. This is very strange for me."

Robyn saw beyond the smile to the vulnerability behind the mask that he usually wore. It was there in his eyes. Sam was a very private person, he wasn't one to let strangers in. Especially strange women, she was sure. She wondered if that was his nature or a protective instinct that he had developed after his marriage had fallen apart. It seemed odd that a man such as himself would have difficulty finding a woman to share his life.

"You don't have to say anything more if you don't want to," she said, not wanting to push. If she was to truly gain his trust, he had to know that she wouldn't try to force him where he didn't want to go.

"Not tonight. It's late, and the story is a long one. Why don't you go ahead and have that shower while I take care of a few things down stairs?"

"Okay." Robyn watched him go, then gathered her things and headed into his room and to the shower. She hurried through the activity, not wanting to keep the him up much later. It was well past midnight and she knew that he'd already had a rough week.