Samson’s head jerked up and he met her gaze. “A few weeks ago, I went to D.C. Talked to the senator. He told me the same thing.”
That news shocked Sloane. “He told you what exactly?”
“He said he’d tell you the truth ’bout me. That you were old enough to handle it. I believed him, damn fool that I am.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Michael doesn’t lie,” she assured Samson. And she believed the senator would have enlightened her. Madeline had told her the same thing.
“Then why did his goons threaten me if I didn’t disappear? And why’d my house blow up right after?”
Sloane blinked as more facets of the situation became clear. “Those things happened without Michael’s knowledge.”
“Speak English, girlie. Who didn’t know what?” Samson kicked a worn sneaker into the dirt on the ground.
He’d dropped his gaze again, though remained facing her, something she considered progress. “Michael’s men acted alone, without consulting him. He had no idea you’d been turned away or threatened. I’m sure of it.”
“Why are you so certain? ’Cuz he’s been such a paragon of virtue telling you the truth all along?”
Sloane flinched, accepting the verbal slap. He had a point, but she still felt compelled to defend the man who’d raised her. “Michael has always acted in my best interest. Or what he thought was my best interest,” she explained. “He may have kept the truth from me but he’s a man of his word. If he said he was going to tell me, he was. It’s his men who took things into their own hands. I’d stake my life on it.”
“And was it a good one?” Samson asked, his tone shocking Sloane, and she sucked in a startled breath. For a moment, the surly old man was gone, replaced by a concerned, caring one. “Was your life a good one?”
Unexpected tears formed in her eyes. “Yes, it was a very good life.”
The wrinkles around his eyes eased. “I figured that. Saw it for myself when I went back to check on your mother. She’d married someone else.” Without warning, he sat down in the grass, as if the weight of telling the story was too much for him to bear.
Sloane knelt, then settled herself Indian-style beside him. “You went back for Jacqueline?” Sloane plucked a blade of grass and twirled it between her fingers, finding it easier to concentrate on the mundane than the painful history between her parents.
“In a manner of speaking.” Samson squinted and looked into the sun. “I made sure she was living good. But her father said unless I stayed away from his daughter, he’d make sure the loan sharks my old man borrowed from came after him, among other threats.
Your grandfather said Jacqueline was only eighteen and I couldn’t support us and my family. If I agreed to his terms, he said he’d make the debts go away.”
“So you took him up on it.”
He nodded. “I put my family first. Before what I wanted. I had no choice.”
Just like Chase, Sloane thought, drawing the unexpected parallel. Two men willing to give her up for the good of family. She realized she was being irrational—Samson hadn’t known Jacqueline was carrying his child any more than Chase had turned away from her.
Yet.
“You didn’t know Jacqueline was pregnant, did you?” Sloane asked to make sure.
“No. But she was married to someone who had money and could give her a better, healthier life than I could have done.”
Sloane tried unsuccessfully to hold back tears. “How did you find out about me?” she asked in a small voice.
“Pictures. When this presidential campaign started, I saw you on television with the senator. Your red hair blowing in the wind. I went to the library and looked up when you were born and put two and two together.” He coughed and ended up laughing. “Bet you didn’t know your old man even knew what a library was, but I was smart once. Before life got in the way.”
Sloane lifted a hand, then feeling useless, let it fall to her side. For once, words wouldn’t come.
“Once I realized the truth, I went to the high-and-mighty senator. He said he’d tell you and we could meet. A week later, a man shows up at my door and sez the senator changed his mind. He wasn’t going to risk his career for the likes of me. I would threaten the campaign.” He smacked his hand against the green grass. “But all I wanted wuz to meet you once. See you, talk to you, know you’re mine, then leave.” He rose again, intending to just walk away.
“Samson, wait.” She jumped up to stop him, but at the same moment, Grace’s voice called out to her.
“I’m not in the mood for people.” He stepped toward the bushes.
Sloane’s mouth went dry. She didn’t want to part ways yet. Not when she didn’t know how to reach him again.
“Sloane?” the other woman called from the deck of the house.
Sloane glanced her way. “One minute.” When she turned back around, Samson had disappeared.
She let her hands drop to her sides, disappointment welling inside her at the opportunity that she’d lost.
Thinking about Samson, she made her way back to the house. She’d met her father, something she hadn’t counted on happening so fast. Crossing the lawn where her mother had grown up, she shivered at the odd sense of belonging she felt in this town, at the odder connection she had for the eccentric man who’d bolted at the first sign of another person.
“I just wanted to let you know that we were leaving,” Grace said as Sloane walked up the deck stairs. “The girls are in the car and I’m taking the teenagers for dinner.” She feigned a shiver at the prospect. “You’re welcome to hang out for as long as you’d like.”
“Thanks, Grace. You’ve been very gracious.”
“No problem. I saw you with someone. Were you talking to the neighbors?”
“You could say that.” Sloane shrugged, not wanting to give Samson’s hideout away.
“Listen, I think I’m going to leave too.”
“But you never went up into the tree house.” Grace gestured in the distance. “You’d really be amazed at that place.”
Sloane smiled. “Then I’ll have to come back, if that’s okay with you.”
The other woman nodded. “Of course it is. Come. I’ll walk you out.”
As they headed for the driveway, Grace made small talk until they reached the cars.
Sloane’s rental blocked Grace’s minivan. “You see? I’d have to move my car anyway so you could get out.”