Chapter Eleven

Whitney stared out at the lake and breathed in the maritime scent. Gentle lapping lulled her into a peaceful swaying and calmed the nerves that had taken up residence since Sam had looked at her with his puppy dog eyes and asked her to spend time with him tonight. Just as them, with no job or the silly bet a part of it.

She tugged down her T-shirt and wondered if she’d gone too casual. The breeze was still warm from the summerlike day and, despite the emptiness of the promenade that joined the amusement park and hotel, she felt surrounded by possibility.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

Whitney turned to see Sam, equally casual in a golf shirt and shorts, walking toward her.

“I could spend a lot of time staring out there and still find something interesting to see.”

“Remind me to show you my parents’ hidden swing. Not tonight, ’cause it needs to be fully appreciated in the daylight, but before we leave, make sure we see it.”

“I would like that,” Whitney said.

They stood side by side, and some of the peacefulness slid away into awkwardness. Sam must have felt something similar, as he became fidgety and kept scuffing his shoe against the concrete.

“When is the last time you did anything fun?” Sam asked.

Guess they were jumping right in. Whitney crossed her arms and cocked her head. “I could ask the same of you, and I bet neither one of us would like the answer.”

“True…” He rubbed his beard. “So let’s have some fun together.”

“Does your definition of fun involve anything that would get me arrested?” She laughed.

“I’m an Ellis.” He tugged on his imaginary lapels. “We are upright, law-abiding citizens.”

She snorted. “I think that’s a load of bull.”

“What?” He looked genuinely affronted.

“No one, no family, is that good. Where’re the skeletons?”

“We hired them for HalloweenFest.” He nudged her. “Of course we’re not perfect. Everyone has their faults, but we mostly wear ours close to our chest and the faults never affect someone else.”

“Lies.”

“Seriously, Whitney. I work hard to keep my faults from hurting someone else.”

“Everything anyone does affects someone else somewhere.”

He sighed. “Okay, too serious right now. Fun was discussed. Are you in?”

“I guess.”

Whitney let Sam tug her through the gates of Cape Stars and into the deserted park.

“I know this is silly, but should we be doing this? Are we allowed?”

Sam stopped and cocked his head. “I own this park. I think that gives me some leeway.”

“True, but everything is closed up.”

“Ahh, but I have the keys.”

He pulled out a giant ring of keys nearly six inches across. They must have weighed easily five pounds. How had he even fit them in his pocket?

“A man with keys is a good man to know.”

“Ahh, so you’re with me only for the keys.”

“I don’t believe I ever said I was with you,” she launched back.

“Ouch, Carroll, you’re playing a dirty game of semantics. Now come on, so I can kick your ass at Skee-Ball.”

They raced down the midway to a white wooden building resembling a barn. Sam fumbled through a few rings before finding one and unlocking the glass doors. One click later they slid apart, and he smiled. “Wait here while I find the lights.”

He disappeared into the darkness, and Whitney couldn’t help but smile. How many girls got to traipse around one of the best amusement parks in the country with pretty much everything at her disposal?

The lights flickered on unevenly here and there, and twenty lanes of Skee-Ball were illuminated.

“Oh, I’m taking you down,” she yelled as Sam appeared from a doorway behind the prize area and grinned.

“Give me your best. It won’t be good enough.”

They chose lanes one apart from each other.

“Highest score owes the other one a truth question,” Whitney said.

“It’s a deal,” Sam replied. “Be ready to expose your soul.”

Her soul. Did she even know her soul anymore? A few weeks ago she would say her soul was pretty damn damaged from her failed marriage, but now? Now she had a little hope surrounding her soul and it had taken the form of kicking one Samuel Ellis’s ass in Skee-Ball.

It was a close game—Whitney taking the early lead but Sam claiming a victory from behind.

He jumped around like a kid who’d caught the homerun ball at Yankee Stadium. It was a different Sam. One who didn’t have the weight of an entire company on his shoulders. A Sam who was carefree.

That Sam was the most attractive Sam she’d seen yet.

“I want a rematch.” Whitney demanded.

“Of course you do, but first…”

Unease crept into her limbs and she picked at the bottom of her T-shirt. What would he want to know?

“What’s your most favorite memory as a kid?”

The shock of such an unexpected question hit her, and her jaw dropped.

“Wow. You’ll have to give me a minute,” she answered.

Her childhood wasn’t something she thought of often. No mom in the picture and a single dad doing the best that he could, given the circumstances.

“I would have to say it was a ride on the carousel at the local fair in Jefferson City. We didn’t have much money, and to this day I don’t know how my father managed to afford even the entrance fee, let alone a ride, but it was at night and the carousel looked like a fairy house—all bright lights and magical horses swirling. He lifted me up and sat me on a gray horse with a pink bridle. I told him I could do it on my own and while he didn’t leave me, he was careful to stand back until the ride was over. He trusted me to try but was there to catch me. He always believed in me.”

Whitney closed her eyes and shook her head. That was a moment she hadn’t thought of in years. Many years more than she probably could count, but when Sam had asked the question it had poured out of her—clear and instant.

Her father had been gone for two years, and memories like this one still punched her gut, stealing her breath.

His hand found hers and squeezed. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I know how powerful it is to have someone believe in you. Especially if that someone is a parent, and I know what’s it’s like to not have the force in your life anymore.”

Of course he did. They were quiet for a few minutes and then she shrugged her shoulders.

“All right Ellis, time for payback.”

Sam smiled and they took their spots and began rolling the balls.

Whitney crushed him. She might have thought he threw the match on purpose if she hadn’t seen the mounting frustration in his face with each ball that dropped into the front gutter.

“Wow, Ellis. It was like you didn’t even try.”

He grimaced and crossed his arms. “We all have a bad roll.”

“Try nine.” She pointed to his score.

“Ouch, you’re a trash talker, aren’t you?”

“Only when warranted.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Okay, my turn. Why do you want to win this bet so badly?”

Blood drained from his face, and he turned away and clenched his fists. She watched his back rise and fall in measured breathing as if he was calming himself. When he faced her again he seemed to have himself under control.

“Failure.” He spoke his answer to the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“What?” she asked.

“If I slow down. I might drop the ball. If I drop the ball, then something might happen to the company, and if that happens I have let down my family and my parents’ legacy. I’ll have proven my father’s words true.”

He spoke slowly, painfully, and to the ground.

Whitney stepped in to him and slid her arms around him, squeezing. A heartbeat later his arms went around her and they stood there. She didn’t know what he was thinking, but she was thinking this man needed a lot more fun in his life. He needed someone to support him and be there when he fell. ’Cause he was going to fall. No one could do what he was doing and not crash. But if she was there maybe the crash could be softened.

I’m helping him win the bet.

The thought splashed ice water on a heart that was warming up to the idea of her and Sam and something more than a bet. How could she be the support person he needed yet help him to win a bet that was detrimental to himself?

But the alternative might crush his very soul, based on what he had confessed. If he lost the company thanks to losing the bet, he had failed. The very thing driving him to exhaustion.

If he won, he lost and if he lost, he lost.

Which loss was worse?

No answer came and she knew it wouldn’t. Not now. They had three and a half weeks before the official end of the bet. She could come up with something in the meantime.

He pulled back. “Thank you for listening and not judging.”

She shrugged. “We all have our reasons and our faults. Our stories matter, Sam.”

“So, I guess we call Skee-Ball a draw. What fun do you want to have next?”

“How about a race down the giant slide?”

Sam grinned. “It’s on.”

…

Sam walked beside Whitney through the darkened park and smiled. The sound of the lake lapped in a steady rhythm, and the silence surrounding them settled his heart. Confessing to her had been cathartic. He hadn’t been able to share that fear with anyone else. He’d touched on it a bit with Eli last year after the deaths, but his twin had been lost in his own battle with his life and purpose, not to mention impending unclehood with the twins.

He had wanted to share it with Whitney.

“So are you really a fan of roller coasters or is it one of those things you were expected to like ’cause of your parents’ company?”

“No, I love them. More so than probably any sibling but Isaiah. He was always pushing the limits with each proposed new attraction. Even a mundane giant slide, he would try to find a way to make it better, faster, while still being safe.”

“He sounds like a fun guy,” she said.

“He was the best. The oldest, but never condescending because of his birth position or his intended future with the company. He loved his family and he loved running Ellis Industries alongside our father. This ride was his brainchild. My dad has his mark on it, but this was Isaiah’s first big baby.”

Whitney slid her arm around him. “It’s going to be great, Sam. Really.”

“Yeah.” He needed to believe that, but a small part of him had an itch, an inkling that something wasn’t quite right. Despite having gone over everything and Whitney double-checking, as well.

The giant slide came into view, and Whitney raced ahead. “Last one to the top has to tell an embarrassing story.”

She bolted and her long legs ate up the ground. There was no way he was losing two contests in a row, so he took off, eating up the ground between them, leaping over the turnstile railing and landing a foot in front of her before taking the steps three at a time.

“Dude, no fair. I didn’t know you were an American Ninja.

He reached the top and bent over, heaving in gulps of air. He may have won, but damn, if he wouldn’t be paying for it tomorrow.

It would be worth it.

Whitney hit the top, clearly less out of breath than he.

“All right, Ms. Carroll. Hit me with the embarrassing story.”

She leaned against the railing. “Wow. Look how beautiful it is.”

Sam stood beside her and leaned down. “Yeah. I remember Mom telling Dad about this tiny little park that sat on a small piece of land surrounded by water. Dad had said it would be a folly, as they would be blocked from expanding, yet Ruth Tate Ellis never failed at anything she set her mind to, and they acquired Cape Stars. Dad always said he would never doubt any business decision mom made, because this park continues to hit every list in the industry.”

“It’s so peaceful and rejuvenating.” Whiney smiled.

“I agree, but you’re not getting out of sharing a story just because you’re admiring my peninsula.”

She spun around and frowned “Fine. Most embarrassing story…my marriage.”

“Whitney.”

“No. It’s true. I was sitting in this little café, sipping a latte and writing in a journal when this young bubbly college student bounces in with two of her friends. She sees me, the blood drains from her face, and she grabs hold of her friends and nods in my direction. They quickly leave and I’m like Do I have foam on my mouth? Am I wearing a hideous shirt? I figure it’s something silly and I go back to the journal. This older woman taps me on the shoulder. I look up and recognize her as the wife of another faculty member. ‘Good for you’ she said. ‘Don’t let them run you out of this town.’ I’m completely confused. And she continued, saying how when her husband had his first affair with one of his students, she took a month-long vacation to avoid the whispers.”

Sam sucked in a breath. He gripped the railing and stared at the inky black lake in the distance. What idiot had chosen anyone over Whitney?

She continued. “I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I kept shaking my head and telling her she was wrong, and that was when she realized I didn’t know. The look of pity…”

He looked at her and she glanced up. “Pretty embarrassing to find out about your husband that way.”

“Whitney, that isn’t anything to be embarrassed about. He should have been the embarrassed one—the ashamed one. I would love to have five minutes to explain how much of an asshole he was. Not just for hurting you in that way, for betraying your marriage and your trust, but also for taking advantage of young women in a totally imbalanced power dynamic.”

Whitney smiled, though it didn’t crinkle her eyes the way a true one seemed to do. “He did get fired. Not that I turned him in. I basically told him I wanted a divorce and he better not put up one ounce of fight, but I’m guessing one of the girls told her parents and it went from there.”

“He deserved a lot worse than that.”

Again the shrug but it mattered to her, he could tell. And why wouldn’t it?

“Anyway, that’s why I’m here—starting over. I had quit my job to follow him. He had bought the house. His name was on the bank account. It wasn’t that he controlled me—if anything, he let me do whatever I wanted—guilt, I imagine, but when it all crashed, I didn’t have anything to fall back on. That was stupid of me.”

“You have things. A job that you’re kicking ass at, and you have me and my family. They love you already.”

She picked at her shirt, looking anywhere but at him. “Wow, these bets are getting a little heavy. Maybe we should stop?”

“Scared I’ll beat you to the bottom?” He nudged her.

She nudged him back. “Scared you’re going to cry when I glide across the finish line first.”

Sam laughed, and the heaviness from the confession flew up into the night sky. “Pick your lane.”

She walked down the ten lanes, looking at each and kneeling to get a better spot. “Seven has always been lucky for me.”

“I’ll take lane three.”

Whitney reached for the overhead bar to climb up. “Crap. We forgot the sacks.”

Sam glanced back down at the large wooden box that housed the potato sacks then at the three humps facing them.

“We can do it. It’s a giant slide, right?”

Two thumbs up was his response, and she climbed up and sat. He followed suit.

“On the count of three. One. Two. Three.”

They both swung and pushed off, hitting the first hump at the exact same time, but Whitney was wearing leggings and he had on shorts. Physics became a handicap and Whitney flew through humps two and three as he inched his way toward the bottom. She stood and jumped around and Sam felt a thump in the area of his heart. This woman was something special. Something worth keeping. Something worth fighting for. He should end the bet now. They should start fresh without that hanging over them.

But what if she didn’t feel the same way?

No, she did. They had a connection. He could tell. Who exposed themselves to each other the way they had?

Still…

“What are you claiming now? Embarrassing, truth, or dare?”

“Ooh a dare… That’s intriguing.” She crossed her arms and looked at him, her gaze heating him wherever it swept. He wanted to kiss her again. For hours. Find out what made her moan, what she liked. Spend moments mapping her mouth with his tongue and her body with his hands.

“Can I take a raincheck for a few until I figure out what I want to subject you to?”

“Sure.” He wasn’t worried. She could ask anything and he would do it or answer it. He felt safe with her. Comfortable. He was sure she felt the same. In the meantime, though, there was something he wanted to do for her.

“Come with me. I have one more thing on our fun agenda before we call it a night.”

She looked intrigued and followed him into the park. They wound their way toward the back area where some of the oldest rides were not operating. When the carousel came into view she gasped.

“It’s beautiful.”

“You know, I think there’s a gray horse on there that’s calling your name.”

She froze and turned to him. “Oh, Sam.”

He motioned for her to move ahead, and she ran to the carousel. He thumbed through his keys till he found the one he needed and inserted it into the control board. Over the years, he had learned how to operate most of the rides. All the Ellis boys had worked at one or more of the parks during the summer months, and one carousel operated pretty much like any other.

Sliding the oddly shaped key in, he clicked it and the carousel came to life. An old organ and snare drum began playing the requisite tune, and he smiled as he watched Whitney weaving among the animals until she found the gray horse. Surprise of surprises, the bridle was pink.

“Do you need me to help boost you?”

She waved. “No. I got this.”

She jumped up and pressed her cheek against the brass pole rising up into the ceiling.

“You ready?” Sam asked.

“Yes.” She bounced up and down, humming in anticipation.

He pressed the large green button and the carousel inched forward, picking up speed and before the second revolution, Whitney was squealing in delight as she passed him. A blur of happiness and smiles.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures.

…

Whitney moved around her hotel room in a daze. The evening, the trip, hell, from the moment Sam had thought to rescue her at Monsoon’s, her life had taken on a bit of a fairy-tale quality. She knew fairy tales weren’t real and Prince Charmings turned into toads and versions of Gaston, but the smile that seemed to appear every time she was near Sam was a permanent fixture on her face.

Is this a gift? A reward for the crap that I’ve gone through? Is the universe or karma or whatever, righting some imbalance in my life?

She snorted. One carousel ride in the dark did not equate to balance, but it did equate to one of the happiest moments in her life. Sam had listened to her. He’d listened, accepted, and supported.

It really was too good to be true, but she wouldn’t ask for more. She would enjoy and ride this crazy ride until it stopped. Then she would continue walking—on her own two feet.

The haunting chords of a hymn floated through her open windows, and Whitney stepped out into the cool lake breeze. It was coming from Sam’s room. His balcony doors were open. She leaned in to the railing and closed her eyes, letting the mournful tune carry up a peak and back down, settling into some peaceful rhythm. When it ended, he switched to a little country jig she’d heard growing up. Something about two lovers who met in the evenings on the edge of their families’ land. If she remembered the lyrics right, it was bit bawdy and she found herself smiling. The sounds grew louder, and she opened her eyes to find Sam staring at her, a small length of their balconies between them.

“Somewhere with my guitar,” she whispered, afraid her voice would carry. That’s what he’d said the first night in the bar. Although he was playing late at night, so maybe he knew something she didn’t about guests on this side of the building.

“You remembered?”

“Bad habit. Why do I get the feeling you keep this part of yourself hidden?”

He shrugged and scuffed his shoe on the balcony.

Why wouldn’t he share a beautiful gift with others? Why did he keep people away? People who wanted to help him.

He’s not keeping me away.

“Don’t you like to keep something to yourself? Something no one else knows? Something you can call your own without any influence?”

She thought about the hidden meaning in his questions or rather, his actions. Why would playing the guitar be a secret Sam wanted to hold on to?

“I can understand keeping things to oneself but usually that’s juicy stuff or the cringeworthy stuff. If I could play guitar like that, I would shout it from the rooftops.”

He shrugged and let the guitar slide around his shoulder.

“Can you sing?” she asked.

He nodded, not really meeting her gaze.

She moistened her lips. “Will you sing for me?”

His head snapped up, and he speared her with a gaze. “Why?”

She stepped forward. They were separated by both railings and about a two foot gap, but she was committed to this moment. “You owe me a dare. I dare you to play for me.” To share this piece of yourself with me.

“Can you sing?” he asked.

She ducked her head and nodded.

“How about we sing together?”

Swallowing hard, she nodded again.

“Do you know ‘It is Well with My Soul’?”

“Yes.”

He strummed a couple of chords and then launched into the song. He adjusted his tenor to her alto and they softly sang to each other, the lapping sounds of the lake providing a gentle bass line. They hit the crescendo of the chorus, and something broke inside her. Some type of wall that had been in place since she’d found out about her ex shattered into pieces and was filled with this magical moment.

Happiness and hope swirled around on the rhythms and notes of the song, and when they finished on the chord that was so perfectly matched, she gripped the railing to keep from melting on the balcony floor.

His throat worked several times before he was able to say, “You sing like an angel.”

She smiled. “I doubt that but thank you. Your voice is smooth like a river rock. Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Whitney?”

“Yes.”

“Come over.”