Safe Haven - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

            Frozen in disbelief, Sarah Davis shuddered, afraid to blink. She felt her mouth move frantically with silent words, but none passed through her quivering lips.

Clothespins dropped from her lifeless fingers. She watched in horror as a black specter, riding a monster of the night, bore down on her. The bike and the rider missed her by mere inches, and then plowed into the pole. At first she thought she was having a nightmare, but it was broad daylight and she was standing outside in the warm sun. Sheets billowed in the aftermath and settled to the ground, effectively covering the evidence of her terror.

            Silence filled the air.

            She breathed a sigh of relief as the feeling came back to her numbed body. Daniel's voice reached her ears. "Mom, you all right? You're not hurt, are you?"

            From the corner of her eye she glimpsed Daniel running to her side. She assured her lanky fourteen-year-old son with a pat on his arm, “Yes, I’m fine, but I’m not so sure about our intrusive visitor.”

            Pulling Daniel along with her, they rushed to a moving heap of now dirty clothes.

            "Did you see that awesome bike, Mom? I bet it's a Harley." Daniel's usually sullen face brightened with animation, his dark brown eyes gleaming.

            Sarah could have cared less about Harleys. She was more concerned with the person pinned under the bike’s weight. A string of offensive words, the likes of which she'd never heard in the Lancaster, Pennsylvania Amish community, spewed from the stranger.

            Heat flushed her face. She was too embarrassed to look at her son.

            "Mom, I'll pull the pole to the side while you take care of the clothes."

            "If this is one of your friends, Daniel, I'll wash his mouth out with soap."

            A deep, mature voice responded. "Good thing for both of us I'm not a friend."

            Startled by the growling voice, she jumped back and caught her foot on the exposed handlebars. Sarah lost her balance and slammed forward onto a hard chest. Her breath whooshed past her lips with the impact.

            "Be still, woman. Are you trying to kill me?"

            Strong arms grabbed her, and hot breath brushed her ear. She struggled and the grip on her waist tightened.

            She pushed on his broad chest trying to get to her feet. A few more choice words escaped his lips and she knew the blush covered her from head to toe, not only from his language, but because she noticed a pair of her white cotton panties draped on his broad shoulders.

            Her heavy braid, loosened by the fall, lost its precarious hold on the top of her head and swung free. With a whack it struck the man right across his mouth. Her eyes narrowed at the amusement evident on his sinful lips. Her body jolted into a flurry of activity. It was not easy to disengage herself from him. His elbow poked the side of her breast and her temper flared to cover her embarrassment. Gaining her feet, she snatched her panties, which were now hanging from his ear, and balled them up to hide in her hand behind her back.

            "You son-of-a-gun. You think this is funny."

            Daniel's giggle reminded her that an impressionable young teenager stood nearby. She put a tight rein on her temper. Jaw clenched, she rounded on the stranger. "They say that people use a lot of vulgar words because they lack the education for a decent vocabulary."

            "Give me a break, lady."

            Sarah bit her bottom lip with her teeth, and watched him stretch his muscular arms and legs as if to test their strength against the weight of the motorcycle. She pondered the thought of those strong arms clasping her tightly just a few moments ago and butterflies erupted in her stomach.

            “Hey mister, you gonna be all right?” Daniel asked.

            “How the hell should I know, kid? I’ve never nearly been decapitated by a clothesline,” he groaned, “or emasculated by a well-placed knee to the groin.”

            His words sank in, and a haze of red fury fired in Sarah's eyes.

            "Hey mom, what's he mean emas…cu…what?"

            Sarah tempered her rage to a hot simmer. "Never mind, Daniel."

            Staring straight into the man's eyes, she said, "I doubt he knows the meaning of the word either."

            James let her comment go. In all of his life, he'd never met a female who could turn hot and cold on and off as if she were a light switch. Her quick temper, explosive like a firecracker, took his breath away.

            The embarrassment she suffered when he saw her underwear left her looking wounded and vulnerable. Seeing her like that stirred something inside of him. Strange sensations wove their way through his mind and body.

            As irritated as he was, James wanted to reach out and take hold of the warmth and cloak himself in it.

            "Do you think you and the kid could help me get out from under this bike?"

            "Oh, of course," she said, her voice suddenly contrite, as if she'd forgotten her manners.

            He spit out instructions like a drill sergeant and soon had the two of them grunting and groaning under the weight of the heavy motorcycle. He was finally free, and he stood up to test the ankle that had been trapped beneath the bike. His eyes boldly searched her face. She appeared wary now. He could see it in her eyes, speckled with bits of gold, and framed with long, spiky lashes. Her face flushed pink, and her small straight nose lifted in the air.

            Long hair, the color of a palomino's mane, a horse he once coveted as a boy, was partially braided and cascaded over her shoulder. Loose tendrils framed her face. His eyes traveled down her tall slender figure not overlooking the generous thrust of her chest. He already knew he could span her tiny waist with his hands. His heated gaze slid back up her body. He watched her tongue slip out to lick her lower lip, capturing his attention, and his fingers began to tingle.

            "Mr. whoever-you-are, with the dirty mouth and insolent eyes, how dare you?" She stomped the ground with her small foot, and dug fisted hands into her waist.

            Stretching to his full height, he blocked out the sun with his body and forced her to stand in his shadow. She immediately thrust out her chin and glared at him. His size intimidated most people, but she didn't give an inch. He admired her bravado. Only the slight quiver of her lower lip gave away her true feelings.

            James knew a challenge when he heard one. This lady had guts, but his intention wasn't to anger or frighten her further, so he stepped back and looked toward the young boy, now balancing his bike upright.

            "What's your name, kid?" James asked.

            "Daniel," the boy murmured absently, his attention still centered on the motorcycle.

            James focused on the woman. Her small teeth still worried her lower lip, and her hands twisted in her apron, still trying to hide her panties. God, she was beautiful all riled up. He moved closer and watched her eyes widen in alarm. He grinned. He couldn't help it. He grabbed the hand still occupied with her underwear and bent low to kiss it. When he heard her sharp intake of breath, he straightened up and released her fisted fingers, keeping the article of clothing.

            He executed a bow. "James O'Malley, at your service,” he said. He heard the bout of giggling behind him. James tilted his head toward the boy and winked. He watched color suffuse her striking face and he was once again delighted with the sparks flying in his direction.

            "Now, milady, I've introduced myself. Tell me your name and I won’t…” waving her white cotton panties in front of her face, "mention your unmentionables."

            Tears gathered in her eyes and her lower lip trembled. James, immediately sorry he’d pushed her so far, heard the boy’s hushed voice behind him.

            "Oh, you're in trouble now, man."

            How could James have known the tears threatening to fall were a sign to take cover? On its last pass beneath her nose she snatched the apparel from his hand. She spat out her indignation quicker than he could blink an eye, and he felt as if he had waved a red flag in front of a bull.

            "Oh, oh, you arrogant, insufferable…"

            "Mom, listen! This is…”

            "…hind quarters of a pig, just who do you think…"

            Daniel reached out and grabbed her arm. "This is James O'Malley, Aunt Hester's great-nephew."

            The passion behind Sarah's tirade sputtered and died, just like his motorcycle. Her shoulders sagged and her words carried on a rush of breath. "No, you can't be!"

            She perused him from head to toe.

            Sliding his hands into his pockets, attempting a casual air, James grinned. "Hind quarters of a pig? Is that the best you can do?"

            Her hand flew to cover her mouth as if she could force the words back where they came from. "I can't believe I said that."

            This is unbelievable. The woman was mortified at her behavior; it took everything in him not to laugh. He'd been called so much worse in his life. Words as sharp as a razor blade, words that could cut deep and threaten to leave gaping wounds if you weren't tough enough. So he had learned to be tough.

            "I know I don't bear much family resemblance. Are we kissing cousins?"

            "Oh, brother," Daniel muttered.

            "We are not cousins. So you can just take your kissing elsewhere, Mr. O'Malley."

            "Well then, who the hell are you?"

            "My name is Sarah Davis, Daniel's mother, and we live here with Hester. And tell me something Mr. O'Malley, would it be so difficult for you to express yourself without using profanity?"

            Only one word of her tirade registered—mother, and his jaw clenched. It figures. Disappointment settled in his gut. When he first looked into her eyes, he thought, oh damn, it didn't matter what he thought. Miss-‘Prim-and-Proper’ wasn't for him. If her attitude was anything to go by, she was definitely not in the mainstream of life.

            James rubbed the tight muscles in his neck and then held out his hand to shake Daniel's. He was surprised by the boy's strong grip. He didn't extend the gesture to Mistress Davis. Her stance was rigid, and she looked as if she wanted to throttle him with something. She had eyes that could make a man go wild when filled with sparks of anger, as they were now, or he imagined they could lure a man beyond the gates of heaven, when filled with passion.

            Her hands were bunching her apron, drawing attention to the ring-less finger on her left hand.

            "And where is Mr. Davis?"

            James heard the gasp from her son and turned toward him. Daniel's grip on the handlebars of his bike tightened, turning his knuckles white. The color drained from the kid's face and he instantly regretted his words.

            "That's a good question," Daniel whispered.

            Pride and determination shone in Sarah's face when she searched her son's eyes for understanding.

            Daniel released his hold on the bike and turned tortured eyes to James, who just managed to grab the bike as it made its second descent to the ground. He stood by feeling helpless, while he watched the boy run up the drive, heels kicking up gravel as he raced around the other side of the house.

            Once again his arrogance got him in trouble. His curiosity was piqued. He had no business asking that question. He stood his motorcycle and walked toward Sarah. Despite her look daring him to comment, she brought her trembling lips under control.

            "Ms. Davis, I'm sorry. I didn't know the question would upset anyone."

            He wanted to reach out, gather her in his arms, absorb the pain he'd caused her with his query. He saw traces of it in her eyes, but by the time he reached her, it was gone. Her stiff upper lip was back.

            "Excuse me, I need to go after my son."

            "I don't know what's going on, but maybe the boy needs time to himself."

            "Time doesn't have anything to do with it." She started to walk away and James followed close behind.

            "Are you going to answer his question?"

            "It's a personal matter and I have no wish to discuss it."

            "Maybe we should start over."

            "Look, Mr. O'Malley, can this wait until after I find Daniel?"

            "I saw him go into the barn."

            Sarah stopped, whirled around, surprise evident in her face.

            "Give him time to calm down. Give yourself some time too."

            Her eyes darted between him and the barn, and James wasn't sure which one was going to win out. She glanced again at the barn, nibbling her lower lip. "Perhaps you're right."

            "I would imagine raising a teenage boy without a father could be complicated."

            "Yes, it can be, among other things." James took the hand she offered. "Please call me Sarah. Your Aunt Hester will be happy you've come home." A sweet smile curved her lips at the mention of his aunt.

            He held her hand in his, stroking his thumb over the calluses on the surface of her palm, enjoying her touch. Enjoying it too much. The texture of her skin excited him and he wanted to feel more than just her hand.

            "Not home. I've just come for a visit."

            But the pleasure ended too quickly when she snatched her hand back and her voice rose in alarm.

            "What do you mean, visit?"

            "I plan on staying a couple of days."

            "Didn’t George Martin find you?"

            "Yes, your private investigator found me. Or, maybe I should say I let him find me."

            “Why didn't he tell us?"

            "You'll have to ask him."

            James had grown tired of the private investigator dogging his every step, so he decided a confrontation was in order. It had only been two weeks since he'd met George Martin, the man hired by his aunt to find him and convince him to come home. James wouldn't commit to anything. He resented the private eye; it surprised him that the man chose to keep their meeting a secret. There was little doubt in his mind that George wanted to spare the old lady any disappointment. The grudging respect he felt for Martin raised another notch, because of the man’s compassion. Apparently he was a friend of the family, as well.

            "But George was to explain to you why it was so important to Hester. A brief visit was not her intention."

            "He explained the circumstances of Hester's health, if that's what you mean."

            "Then you must not understand. You're supposed to be home to stay. Your grandfather's last wish…"

            "I'll use your line. ‘It's personal and I don't want to discuss it’."

            "Hester needs you. If you don't plan on staying, then it would be better if she never knew you were here. It would break her heart to see you walk away after all the years she spent having George search for you. It would be cruel to leave so soon."

            He couldn't give in to her plea for him to stay, no matter how passionate it was. She was fiercely protective of his aunt. Why? Who was she? How did she fit in?

            His grandfather had known where he was for years, long, lonely years for a young boy—years filled with poverty and hopelessness. James would never admit to how long he had hoped and dreamed…and waited.

            He definitely didn't want to talk about a wish from some old man; a wish that a small, lonely boy depended on to come true. A promise never kept. No enlightenment could possibly explain away the waiting and the belief that his ‘white’ grandfather would come back for him. He didn't want to hear it.

            "I don't stay anywhere too long. I like to move around."

            "But, this is your home."

            "You can't miss what you never had." James glanced around the property; his eyes settled on the old clapboard house with the wrap-around porch. The house looked lived-in and loved. Tossing these crazy thoughts aside he turned back to Sarah. The signs of distress and sympathy in her eyes angered him. Pity was the last thing he wanted from her.

            "You'd be surprised how many people do very well on their own. Family and hearth is probably not all it’s cracked up to be."

            Glancing away from Sarah, James saw an old woman cautiously making her way down the front steps of the house.

            "Is that my aunt?"

            "Oh, no! Hester, you can't do that." After the fast sprint across the yard, Sarah had having difficulty catching her breath. "You could have tripped and hurt yourself."

            Hester’s hands were now extended and Sarah gazed at the look of rapture on her face. Feeling James’s presence right beside her, Sarah moved to grasp Hester’s arms, but realized the spread hands were not meant for her, but for James. Hester's watery blue eyes never left her great-nephew's face.

            Before she stepped back to allow Hester to receive her nephew, giving them the privacy they needed, Sarah squeezed his arm in warning, along with a look that spoke volumes.

            Deep inside, Sarah was happy that Hester finally had her dream realized. But not knowing James, she felt a need to protect Hester. So she moved to the side, watching to see if he heeded her warning.

            She wouldn't hesitate to put her life on the line for this dear old woman. Hester had opened her arms and her home to a scared sixteen-year-old kid who had nowhere to go—a girl who had been shunned by her Amish family—a girl who was pregnant. She remembered a feeling of inner peace and contentment filling her, when she crossed over the threshold of Hester O'Malley's home.

            She had hoped to find work in exchange for room and board, but she found more than that. She found security and a loving home with Hester. Not once had Hester ever made Sarah feel badly about herself. Not once had she ever violated her privacy.

            Hester's health was failing more and more every day. Sarah wished she could stop the clock, which endlessly ticked away. Each minute that passed took Hester

away from her and Daniel, which in turn made each minute precious to them. She

years ago.