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When Love Comes Home

By Judythe Morgan

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CHAPTER 1

Sammy shoved Faith’s newest purchase, a clunky, pointy dragon crafted from farm machinery parts, into her car trunk. This was his third trip to load something he didn’t want to lug around. Now he understood why her husband Blake grinned when he explained he couldn’t come along today. His weekend duty defending drunks and disorderly conduct soldiers meant Sammy had escorted his sister to the local craft fair.

The morning sun beat down with blinding brightness and the hot, humid air made breathing nearly impossible. “Blake got the better end of the deal,” he muttered and slammed the trunk.

Swiping perspiration from his neck with his handkerchief, he returned to the vendor area where he’d left Faith shopping. She’d wandered out of sight.

Again.

He raised his hand to his forehead to block the sun and scanned the aisles. A woman holding a quilt caught his eye. Not Faith, but a shiver of familiarity crawled up his arms and down his spine. Tiff?

Gone was the sun-lightened, blond hair he’d run his fingers through, replaced by a dark, burnished-golden, brown color. Still, the similarity was uncanny. The woman laughed at something the vendor said. The singsong sound swam through the muggy air. How long had it been since he’d heard it? Ten years? Didn’t matter. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

Tiffany Fischer. His Tiff.

Sammy couldn’t take his eyes away from her as a tender sadness washed over him, remembering the divorce papers that brought him to North Carolina.

She turned his way and dazzling blue eyes, the same as he remembered, aimed his direction. Faint lines formed at the corners as she smiled. Had worry or laughter put them there?

The quilt in her hand fell into a heap. “Samuel?”

Samuel. She’d always insisted upon calling him Samuel, never Sam or Sammy. Always Samuel. Sammy made him sound like he was a ten-year-old, she’d told him.

“Tiff? Is it you?”

She rushed forward, her arms open wide. As if time and hurt had never happened, he slid into her embrace. Her arms encircled his chest, her head burrowed against his collarbone. “Samuel.”

He inhaled her scent. The herbal fragrance of her shampoo filled his nose. Silky-soft curls tickled his chin. Holding her in his arms again was like she’d never left. All his dreams that she’d return come true.

She pulled her head away and stepped back just as quickly. His arms felt empty, and like in every dream he had, he woke, and she was gone.

“I can’t believe this. What are you doing here?”

Her question baffled him. Her lawyer had summoned him. She had to know why he was in town. Unsure of what was going on and cautioned by Blake not to talk about the proceedings, he opted for the simple answer. “I’m visiting Faith. She married Blake Robbins. You remember Blake. He’s stationed at Ft. Bragg.”

“I can’t believe it. Faith Ann worshipped him. And they ended up married? Wow. It’s the perfect ending.”

As perfect as he and Tiffany should have been. If she hadn’t—

A million questions raced through his head. Before he could figure out how to ask one without being in legal trouble, a man with greying temples walked up and kissed her on the lips then swiveled toward Sammy. His lips curled in a she’s-mine, hands-off smile.

“Samuel, this is Brendan Murphy. Brendan, Samuel Fitzpatrick. An old classmate.”

Classmates? They’d been much more. Husband and wife. He swallowed the sting and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Brendan.”

“There you are.” Faith appeared at his side. “Tiffany Fischer? Imagine seeing you here. And who is this handsome gentleman?”

Brendan took Faith’s hand and kissed it lightly. “Brendan Murphy and you are?”
“Faith Robbins. Sammy’s sister.”

Tiff’s smile widened, but the sparkle fell short of her eyes. “Friends from back home.” She slipped her hand through Brendan’s arm. That’s when Sammy caught the flash of the sparkly diamond on her left finger.

His heart tumbled down to his toes then bounced to his throat like a rubber ball. Confusion and jealousy stroked at him, teasing and taunting. He swatted the claws away.

“Let’s get a lemonade and visit,” Tiffany suggested.

Brendan pushed back the sleeve of his monogrammed shirt to glance at the gold watch on his wrist. “Perhaps another time. We’re set for dinner, my Luv. We need to be going.” His tone rumbled with impatience.

Her face flushed. “Sammy, are you going to be here long? We can all get together.”

He stiffened. What game was she playing? She’d filed for divorce. He’d see her in court on Monday.

Faith placed her hand on his arm preempting a response. “He’ll be here until things are settled.”

Tiff's brow furled as though Faith’s answer didn’t make sense. She dug into her tote and pulled out a business card. “Give me a call. We’ll set up lunch or something before you go back home.”

Their fingers grazed and lingered. Not long. Maybe two seconds. Longing for more contact, he brushed his thumb over her soft knuckles as she released the card. A mere whisper of a touch. The contact sent a quake through his body. A flicker of awareness flashed in her dark orbs, and she sucked in a soft breath. She jerked back her hand and pivoted to give Faith a quick hug.

“Good to see you both," she said and walked away beside Brendan.

Watching their retreat, Sammy heard his heart crack. He was too late.

Faith shook her head as they disappeared into the crowd. “That was weird.”

“Very. She acted like she had no idea we’d see her in court on Monday.”

“Her lawyer probably told her not to talk about the divorce same as we told you.”

“But she seemed genuinely happy to see me, didn’t she?” He sounded like a pathetic love-struck high schooler. He was going to need to pull himself together before Monday.

“She did.” Faith put her arm through his. “What say we head home and grill those steaks I thawed? Forget about Tiffany Fischer and that summons.”

Faith might be able to forget, but that was never going to happen for him.
~~
“We could have visited with them,” Tiffany complained to Brendan as they walked toward the fairground exit after seeing Samuel and Faith.

“No time. We have a meeting with another distributor before the fundraiser. I thought I mentioned it.”

She didn’t like that he sometimes forgot to include her in his planning. “You should have told me sooner.”

“Sorry. It won’t take long. If things go like I think, retailers will be screaming for your landscape creations after tonight. We’ll need all the outlets we can get.”

Aidan, Tiff’s driver, met them at the exit gate. His eyes danced with his customary smile. Some of her tension lifted as he opened the door.

“No joy?” Whenever he sensed she was frustrated, he used the Irish phrase, asking if she’d succeeded with her task.

“It was a lovely craft fair with lots of wonderful things to see.”

“But did you find any new vendors?” Brendan asked when they’d settled in the SUV.

“A couple.” She pulled two cards from her purse. “Both had lovely items. They’re single moms eking out a living selling at craft shows and online. Having us represent their stuff will help them have some financial freedom.”

She hadn’t forgotten her days of standing in booths at farmer’s markets and craft shows harking her artwork. Helping others was the major reason she’d set up Fischer Textiles.

“You need more workers, not more crafty items. Everyone is going to want your textile landscapes.” Brendan shrugged. “And producing more of what’s profitable is what we want.”

She squeezed his hand. “I think we can do both.”  

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