Safe Harbor by Luanne Rice Page A

extravagantly happy to have Sam there instead.
    His voice drifted through the open door, friendly and low. What a fine man Sam was, so very kind. Augusta thought of how much he had grown up these last two years—taking the teaching post at Yale, coming into his own from the obviously daunting shadow of his older brother.
    When Augusta heard the click of Sam hanging up the phone, she bit her lip. Her fingers went to her black pearls, working each one as if it held a nugget of wisdom. “Mind your own business,” one pearl said. “Let him find his own way,” said another. “Don’t meddle,” said the third. In her old age, Augusta was learning a lot about being a mother.
    But rationalizing that Sam wasn’t biologically one of her children, she had just the opening necessary. Watching the waves break along the sands of Firefly Beach, she cleared her throat and straightened her spine.
    â€œWhat did she say?” Augusta demanded as he came out the door.
    â€œWell, she can’t have dinner tonight.”
    â€œTell me why. She has to have dinner tonight—as an artist, she needs her strength, and as a woman taking care of children, she needs it even more.”
    â€œI guess she has other plans,” Sam laughed, wind blowing his hair across his face. Augusta wished he would take those glasses off. They made him look too smart, and she knew Dana Underhill would be a sitting duck if only she could see the heart and soul in Sam’s golden-green eyes.
    â€œYou are far too good-natured,” Augusta said, shaking her head. “Don’t be too understanding, young man.”
    â€œWhat was I supposed to do, Augusta? Tell her I’m coming no matter what she said?”
    â€œThat’s what Hugh would have done,” she said, thinking of her husband. “And your brother, Joe.”
    At that, Sam fell silent. He sat in the chair beside Augusta, and together they rocked companionably. She could see the tightness in his face, and her heart broke a little in her chest. Sam wasn’t like Hugh or Joe. He was just as strong, but he had a much more gentle way. Augusta didn’t want to see him lose it; neither did she want to see him miss his chance.
    â€œYou like her, don’t you?” Augusta asked.
    â€œI do,” he said. When he glanced over, the boyishness was gone from his eyes. His face was weatherbeaten—sun- and windburned, with lines of sadness around his mouth. “You see through me. I came to visit you, but I want to see her too. I’ve never gotten her out of my mind.”
    â€œJust like Joe,” Augusta said, marveling as she reached across the space between their chairs and held Sam’s hand. “The way he never forgot Caroline. Long love must run in your family.”
    â€œI’m thinking it does.”
    Augusta watched him, the way he was looking east, toward Hubbard’s Point. Although she didn’t know the Underhills well, she had seen them around town over the years. Their daughters had gone to school together, and Augusta thought she remembered seeing Dana and Lily at some of the Firefly Beach bonfires. Now her gaze drifted east as well, and she thought of how many of her children—biological or not—had found love on this strand of shore.
    â€œSam?” she asked, still holding his hand.
    â€œYes?”
    â€œGo for a walk,” she said softly. She thought of how many times she and Hugh had walked along that beach, how many times they had kissed with the waves licking their feet.
    â€œWhere?” he asked, slowly turning his head so she could see the fire in his green eyes.
    â€œYou know, dear,” Augusta said, rocking again, looking over the Sound as she thought about Hugh. “You know where.”
    â€œShe said she doesn’t want to have dinner tonight.”
    â€œI know.” Augusta knew all about Lily Grayson’s death last summer, and she could only imagine what her