let anything happen to Missy or Amelia.'
'Don't you ever do something like this again.' He covered her mouth with his, claiming her, the kiss one of rejoicing and affirmation.
« ^ »
Sam had been unsuccessful in persuading Jeannie to allow Marta and the teachers to care for the children. Her compassionate heart would not allow her a moment's concern for herself; her every thought was of the frightened, confused boys and girls who crowded around her, seeking comfort. And she gave them comfort, and so much more, in a way only Jeannie could. One by one, she hugged the children, absorbing their anxieties, freeing them from the trauma they had experienced.
With each child's unburdening, Jeannie grew weaker and weaker. Sam sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her, wanting desperately to give her some of his strength. The moment Marta lifted the last child out of Jeannie's arms, Jeannie turned to Sam, her eyelids drooping and her lips parting on a sigh. She tried to lift her hand to caress his worry-lined face, but she didn't possess enough strength. When she dropped her hand to her side, Sam lifted it, brought it to his lips and kiss her open palm.
'Take care of me, now, Sam.' She closed her eyes and fell immediately into a deep sleep.
With Jeannie in his arms, Sam stood and carried her out of the Howell School. Lieutenant Painter met them in the parking lot, halting Sam before he reached the Lexus.
'Is Ms. Alverson all right?'
'She will be after she gets some rest,' Sam said.
'I'll need to speak with her as soon as she's able to answer a few questions.'
'Give me a call this evening and I'll let you know.'
'Tell her that we apprehended Danette Suddath and Nora Dill. And we've put out an all-points bulletin on Maynard Reeves. He finally made a big mistake. We can throw the book at the reverend. He must have lost his mind, taking a school full of disabled children hostage.'
'Reeves is obsessed with destroying Jeannie. He's convinced himself and his followers that she really is a witch.'
'Tell Ms. Alverson that we'll get Reeves. We've set up roadblocks and are doing an all-out search.' Lieutenant Painter glanced down at Jeannie, lying in Sam's arms. 'She's for real, isn't she? I mean she actually can take away other people's pain.'
'Yeah,' Sam said. 'She's for real.'
He walked away, carrying Jeannie to her car. He opened the door, reclined the seat and laid her down, then closed the door. He got inside, started the engine and drove out into the street. The noonday sun heated the road, creating a shimmering glare. Reaching inside his coat pocket, Sam pulled out his sunglasses and put them on.
When they reached the cottage, Sam carried her straight inside to bed. After undressing her, he sat down on the bed and scooted up to rest his back on the headboard, then closed his eyes.
Reeves was out there somewhere, a hunted animal. He would be even more dangerous than before. Now he had nothing to lose. Sam knew what he had to do if the law didn't apprehend Reeves soon.
Reeves had finally crossed the line from mental instability to insanity. Sam had seen it in his eyes. He'd seen that look before, in the eyes of other men, men who had completely lost their hold on reality.
Jeannie moaned in her sleep and turned over, her hands searching. Sam slumped down in the bed, took her in his arms and held her close. Cuddling against him, she returned to a restful sleep. Sam trembled as he held her, the reality of how close he'd come to losing her finally hitting him. He clung to her, stroking her back, dotting tiny kisses over her forehead and cheeks. An ache formed in the pit of his stomach and spread upward, lodging in his throat. Emotions so vast, so forceful that they threatened his sanity consumed him.
Guarding Jeannie was his first priority. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe.
He would take care of her, protect her at all costs, but the one thing from which he could not protect her was her own compassionate heart.
Laying her hand on his chest, she wrapped herself around his big body. Sam drew in a deep breath. How had this happened? How the hell had he allowed himself to become captured by a sweet innocent, by an angel whose tender mercy ruled her life? How could such purity be so sensual, such spirituality be so human, such etherealness be so totally erotic?
Six years ago, when he washed ashore on Le Bijou Bleu, Jeannie had done far more than save his life—she had taken possession of his soul. He had never been able to forget her. The sound of her voice. The feel of her comforting hands. The look in her gentle brown eyes.
He had tried to stop thinking about her, willed himself not to remember the powerful connection that existed between them, but deep inside he'd always known that he could not escape the inevitable. Even his niece Elizabeth, when he stayed with her to recuperate from the nearly fatal gunshot wounds, had sensed he was running away from more than his guilt and remorse over Brock's and Connie's deaths. And Elizabeth, who possessed strong psychic powers, had predicted that Sam would return to Biloxi, and to the woman who had saved his life.
He had not allowed Elizabeth to tell him any more of what she'd seen in his future. He hadn't wanted to know, and he still didn't want to know. He felt unworthy, undeserving of being loved by Jeannie. Didn't she know the kind of man he was, the type of life he'd lived? Of course she knew. She even knew he'd been responsible for the death of his unborn child. And yet she loved him.
* * *
Jeannie slept the day away, waking with a ravenous appetite for both food and Sam. He made slow, tender love to her, and she blossomed under his loving care, seeming to gain strength from their physical joining. Later he prepared hearty salads, serving them with wine and bread. They ate in the garden again, isolated from the world, nestled in their own tiny piece of paradise. After dinner, she asked him about the morning's events, and he told her everything he knew.
'Don't ever run away by yourself again, the way you did this morning,' he said. 'I died a thousand deaths when I saw you drive off and knew I couldn't stop you.'
'How did you figure out where I'd gone? And how did you know Reeves was at the school?'
'I knew something Marta had said must have triggered your actions.' Tilting his head to one side, Sam rested his cheek against the top of her head. 'When I phoned the school and spoke to Marta, I could tell something was wrong. She was acting strange. I put two and two together and figured Reeves was involved.'
'I know it was foolish of me to go alone to the school.' She covered his hands, which lay across her stomach, with her own. Would Sam ever have forgiven her, or himself, if Reeves had killed her and, in doing so, destroyed their unborn child? 'I couldn't let Maynard Reeves hurt the students. I did what I had to do. Please understand.'
'I understand.' He hugged her, encompassing her in his embrace, wishing he could absorb her into himself and keep her safe. 'You don't have the capacity to put your needs before those of others. You give and give and give, no matter what the cost is to you.'
'You would do the same.' Tilting her face, she reached up and kissed him, wanting him to look inside himself and see the truth.
'Not me,' he said. 'I'm not as strong as you are, angel. I don't have your guts. Besides, the powers that be knew I was the last person on earth who should have the ability to heal the suffering of others. I don't even know how to love.'
'That's where you're wrong. You have a great capacity to love. But before you can use that wellspring of goodness inside you, you must come to terms with all the negative feelings keeping that love trapped.'
