Second Chances

“Well, maybe some other time,” Paul said, straightening and smiling woodenly. “I’ll call you.”

She noticed that his smile no longer brought a mischievous sparkle to his dark, compelling eyes. His gaze had grown shadowy, brooding, the way it used to be. The way it had been the night of the awful fire.

That memory was enough to keep her from holding back any longer. “No. I don’t want you to call.” Belinda shook her head firmly for emphasis. “We have nothing more to talk about.”

Smile fading, he turned to leave. His voice sounded emotionless when he said, “For once, you may be right.”

Belinda stopped by her grandmother Eloise’s that evening. Eloise had sprained her ankle and was supposed to stay off her feet as much as possible. She wasn’t behaving, of course. Belinda hadn’t expected her to listen to medical advice, not even Sam’s, which was why she’d decided to drop in and volunteer to cook the evening meal.

Standing at her grandmother’s stove, Belinda got more and more distracted as she began to contrast the differences between Sam and Paul. Sam was steady, comfortable, and he fit effortlessly into her daily life. She’d never had a moment’s worry about what he might be doing or who he might be with. On the other hand, being around Paul had always made her feel disquieted, as if she were standing at the edge of a precipice in a stiff wind and was about to be blown over the edge. Even now, though he’d looked as refined as any other professional man, his presence had sent a chill up her spine and made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

Daydreaming, she nearly burned the black-eyed peas she was fixing as a side dish.

Eloise hobbled up to rescue the smoking pot and stirred rapidly. “Goodness me. That was close.”

“Sorry. I guess I wasn’t paying enough attention.”

“No problem. I got to ’em in time.” She paused, then asked, “So, tell me, how was Paul Randall?”

Whirling, Belinda stared. “How did you know I’d seen him?”

“Lucky guess.” Eloise set the pot off to the side and plopped her slightly overweight body into a kitchen chair. “Well? Was he polite? Did he show his raisin’, or did he manage to behave himself?”

“If you mean, did he grab me and kiss me senseless the way he used to, the answer is no. He’s more out-of-place in Serenity than ever, but he didn’t say or do anything embarrassing.”

“That’s a relief. You never know what might get back to Sam if somebody was to see you and Paul acting too friendly.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m not even friends with Paul. Not anymore. Besides, Sam’s not the jealous type. He may be practical to a fault but he’s also predictable. He’d never jump to conclusions.” Belinda turned off the stove and scooped thin strips of sautéed steak and onions from her frying pan into a serving bowl. “He’s completely logical. That’s why I believe him when he says Serenity’s going to boom. He’s even bought the building where his office is. Says he’s planning to add another wing to it.”

“Well, well. I suppose that explains why he was so keen on being voted president of the Chamber. I’m not real happy to hear he wants to start changin’ things, though.” She lowered her voice to add, “’Course, he’s not from around here, so you never know.”

Pensive, Belinda recalled what Paul had always said about not being accepted by the established core of Serenity’s population. In his case, he was right. It wasn’t that folks were cruel. Some newcomers just fit in better than others, especially if they made an effort to become a useful part of the community. Sam was making that effort. Paul and his father never had.

She remembered the first time she’d set eyes on Paul. His father had come to Serenity because of his late wife’s shirttail relation to the Whitaker family and landed a job as a mechanic at the local gas station.

Paul had shown up for his first day as a senior at Serenity High sporting threadbare clothes, a worn leather jacket and a sullen, uncooperative attitude. Belinda had viewed him more as a lost soul than a rebel and had offered friendship. In no time, she’d fallen head-over-heels in love. She sighed. Too bad Paul’s feelings for her hadn’t been strong enough to overcome their differences.

“I’d like some of that before it gets cold,” Eloise gibed, gesturing toward the bowl Belinda was holding. “Unless you plan on keepin’ it all for yourself.”

The comment brought her back to the present with a jolt. “Of course not. I…I was just afraid it was too hot for you to handle, that’s all.”

“Oh? With that faraway look in your eyes I figured you might be thinking about how you felt when you ran into your old boyfriend today.” She grinned. “Was he too hot to handle, too?”

“Gram! Shame on you. Wash your mouth out!” Cheeks flaming, Belinda took her place at the table and refused to acknowledge her grandmother’s triumphant expression. It was impossible to ignore her jubilant comments, however.

“Aha! I thought so. Good! Maybe now we’ll see some action around here. A little honest competition should shake up Sam Barryman and get things moving. He may not be perfect but he’s the best catch around…and a doctor, to boot. You two have been courtin’ for a whole year. It’s time he got serious and asked you to marry him. Fish or cut bait, I always say.”

Belinda stared at her plate without seeing it. Sam had already asked her to be his wife—more than once—and she’d put him off. At the time, she hadn’t realized what was stopping her. Sam was personable and reliable, he went to her church, and she was truly fond of him. So why not make a commitment? Why, indeed. Now that she’d been around Paul again, she was beginning to understand that the problem lay with her, not with Sam.

And she didn’t like that conclusion one bit.

The Whitaker estate was a run-down relic from a bygone era. It was also a prime piece of real estate, which was why Paul had decided to spend a few extra days poking around in Serenity. He knew his elderly twin aunts had no spare funds with which to have the place independently appraised. He also knew that the sale of the property was their last chance to provide for the fulfillment of any dreams beyond day-to-day subsistence. At eighty-three, they didn’t have the option of going back to work teaching if they wanted anything more than the basic necessities.

He wheeled his black Lexus into the circular driveway of the old frame house and parked. The narrow track branched so that visitors who had arrived by carriage in the old days could enter by the front door, then send their driver to the back to stable the horses without having to turn the team around. The carriage house in the rear had eventually been converted into a garage.

Pausing in the quiet of the late evening, Paul gripped the steering wheel and took a deep, settling breath. Maybe he’d made a mistake by coming here. Even Aunt Patience, usually the sprightly, happy twin, had been acting reserved. Prudence, on the other hand, had always moped around as if she’d just lost her best friend, so he couldn’t tell if she was glad he’d responded to her request for legal help or not.

But that wasn’t his real reason for questioning the wisdom of his decision to visit Serenity, was it? He immediately pictured Belinda. They’d had some really good times together. On her eighteenth birthday she’d snuck away to spend the afternoon at the river with him. Her auburn hair was longer back then, with golden highlights glistening in the sun, and she’d pinned it up because the weather was so hot and sticky.

They’d walked beside the slow-flowing water, pausing in the shade to share a tender kiss. Paul remembered her wide, innocent, blue eyes looking at him as if he were the perfect man. Faint freckles had dotted her pale skin.

She’d wrinkled her nose and made a silly face, pleading with him. “Come on. It’s just a picnic. Please? Promise you’ll go with me?”

“A church picnic,” Paul had said.

“So? Daddy won’t bite.”

“I’m not so sure. He didn’t look real pleased when I sat down next to you last Sunday.”

She giggled. “I know. Wasn’t he funny? It was like he preached his whole sermon right to you.”

“Yeah. I noticed.” Paul grimaced. “I felt like a bug under a microscope.”

Belinda slipped her arms around his waist and stepped into his embrace. “I’m so sorry. That was partly my fault. When Daddy asked me why I was spending so much time with you, I told him I was trying to get you converted.”

“I don’t need saving,” Paul recalled telling her. Back then, he’d seriously considered walking the aisle some Sunday just to please her and make points with her father. Fortunately, he’d decided there was no way he could fake salvation, any more than he could convince the sanctimonious residents of Serenity that he was just as good as they were.

Pensive, he sighed. Funny how things had worked out. His father had ruined his own life by making lousy choices, had left the stigma of a convicted arsonist on his only son and had seen to it that they stayed ostracized by living a transient, antisocial life.

Yet it was that same miserable existence that had made Paul so determined to succeed, to earn enough money to change his lifestyle and make himself into someone entirely different. A professional man people could look up to. Respect.

And that strategy had worked until he’d faced Belinda Carnes again and sensed her continuing distrust. He’d hoped she’d give him some sign that she might be willing to forgive and forget. Maybe even take up where they’d left off. After her clear rebuff today, however, he knew better.

Innocent until proven guilty didn’t apply to him. Not in Serenity. Belinda obviously still blamed him for setting fire to her father’s church. Chances were, so did almost everybody else in town, even if they didn’t have the guts to say so to his face.

Paul’s jaw muscles tightened, and his forehead furrowed. He didn’t care what the others thought of him, but Belinda’s opinion mattered. A lot. Whether they ever got back together or not, it was imperative that he prove to her he’d been innocent of any wrongdoing.

He sure wished he knew how he was going to do that.

Chapter Two

Belinda smiled and waved when she saw Sam Barryman’s sporty red Camaro pulling into her driveway at precisely nine-thirty on Sunday morning. It was hard to remember exactly when Sam had started taking her to church. He hadn’t asked. He’d simply begun showing up. For the past six or eight months she’d accepted his presence without question. This morning, however, she found it strangely annoying.

Tall, blond and athletic, the doctor bounded up the front steps to her house and held the door open for her. “Good. You’re on time. I’m glad to see my suggestions worked.”

“I beg your pardon?” Belinda wrinkled her brow.

“My suggestions. About getting you organized,” he said, ignoring her negative expression. “Can’t have my future wife running around being late all the time.”