"Before I tell you what I know about April, I want to know more about both of you." He turned to Dianna. "April said you have a TV show and that you are quite famous. Does anyone know you are here and how did you find us?"
Considering how upset she'd been inside April's shack, she barely blinked an eye as she said, "April told me enough about the Farm for us to locate it on a map."
Sam's respect for her--already in full measure after the way she'd come back from a near-drowning to transcend her fear of heights, all in the same day--grew yet again. She'd deftly sidestepped Peter's first question without giving away Will's part in getting them to the commune.
Seeming satisfied with her response, the man turned to Sam. "And who are you?"
"I already told you my name," Sam said.
Peter raised an eyebrow. "We are very careful with regard to who we allow on the Farm. Are you a cop?"
Sam sized up the commune's leader. Broad-shouldered with cropped hair, he didn't look weak. And then, there was a question of bodyguards. What the hell were they hovering around for?
Clearly impatient for answers, Dianna leaned forward and pinned the man with her intelligent gaze.
"Sam is a firefighter, not a cop. And now that you've got your answers, I want to find out what you know about my sister's disappearance. Anything about where she might be, her last moves, if she'd ever left the commune before and with whom?"
Clearly surprised by her pointed questions, Peter looked concerned for the first time.
"I'm very sorry to hear that she's missing. Honestly, I doubt anyone here knows what happened to her. She's been a constant resident for the past three months. She came with a boyfriend named Kevin, but when he moved on a few weeks later, she remained behind. I believe she hiked down into Vail to see you a few days ago, is that not correct?"
A flash of pain moved across Dianna's face, so quickly Sam almost missed it.
"Yes, my sister and I met in Vail. Was April hanging around any strangers? Did she have any enemies that you know of?"
Peter shook his head. "As far as I know, she didn't have any enemies. But I will admit to being concerned about her in the beginning. She wasn't particularly good in group situations at first. I think getting her involved with the other women who cook helped turn her around." He licked his lips. "She makes the most marvelous herb bread."
Sam watched as Dianna struggled with her frustration at Peter's answers. "I can't believe my sister would be a part of something like this," she said, gesturing to the grounds below the house.
Peter cocked his head to the side. "Like what?"
Dianna leveled a hard stare at the man. "You tell me. What the hell are all of you doing hidden up here with no roads and no contact with the outside world?"
For the first time Sam saw the take-no-prisoners-reporter side of Dianna and it impressed the hell out of him.
Strangely, though, Peter didn't seem the least bit upset by the gauntlet she'd thrown down.
"We find that people often have misconceptions about an intentional community such as ours. We don't have a group religion. We support ourselves by making furniture and other handmade products, along with animal by-products such as honey and cheese. The people who live here do so because they love it. Your sister, I believe, was growing comfortable in our community."
Dianna sat back in her seat, clearly digesting Peter's words.
"Do you swear to me that my sister wasn't mixed up in anything illegal?"
Peter nodded. "As far as I know, she was simply here trying to find herself." He bowed his head and took a deep breath. "I can see how worried you are and I will allow you to ask her friends if they know anything more, although, I should warn you, not everyone here trusts outsiders." After a moment of silence, he added, "I'm also willing to let you set up camp here for the night. There is plenty of room in the meadow for the two of you."
Peter's offer sounded benevolent. Helpful, even. But to Sam's suspicious ears it reeked of wanting to keep an eye on them.
Unfortunately, the sun had already set behind the trees. Even if they chose to leave the commune, they couldn't get far in the dark. Besides, Dianna looked as exhausted as he'd ever seen her.
At Dianna's questioning glance, he said, "Fine. We'll stay."
"I wish I could help you more," Peter said as he walked them to the door.
Almost across the threshold, Dianna paused. "Do you have a phone?"
"Just one, here in the house."
"Could I use it?"
"Follow me."
The phone was in a small room by the back door. "Take your time," he said. "You can let yourself out the back."
Dianna put her hand on Peter's arm before she left the room. "I have one more request," she said in a smooth voice that belied her distress. "I'd like to give the Farm's telephone number to my producer. Just in case April calls, she'll know where to find me."
For a moment, Sam thought the man was going to refuse her request and he was preparing himself to "convince" him when Peter gave her the number.
Dianna picked up the old-fashioned receiver and dialed. "Ellen? It's Dianna. Is there any word from April?"
Sam watched as her face fell, just as it had when they'd talked to the girl outside the commune's gates and learned that April was, indeed, still missing. Quickly giving her friend the commune's telephone number, she disconnected, then dialed another number and typed in what looked like a voice mail access code.
Standing off to the side, Sam felt superfluous yet again. Sure, she'd needed him on the river and the rock. But she'd barely needed him since. Of course he was proud of her for being so strong, for asking the hard questions. And yet, it only confirmed that he had no real place in her life.
But when she hung up the phone and looked at him with tears in her eyes, saying "She hasn't left any messages on either of my phones," he finally realized another reason he was here: to pull Dianna into his arms and hold her when all hope seemed lost.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
GOING SHACK to shack, they talked with men, women, even teenagers. But no one knew where April was. Apart from the girl who'd stopped them at the chain-link fence earlier that day, the commune's residents seemed truly sad to hear that April was missing.
"I wish there was something I could do to help," said their final interviewee, an attractive woman in her early thirties with a drooling young baby on her lap. "April was always so good with Christy. I swear, sometimes it seemed like she was the only one who could get her to stop crying."
April was good with babies? Dianna couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about the same person.
"I don't think I've ever seen my sister interact with a child before," Dianna told the woman, who smiled, revealing slightly crooked front teeth.
"Honestly, I think she was scared stiff the first time I dropped Christy into her lap." Chuckling, she added, "But I'm sure you know what a quick learner she is."
But Dianna didn't know that at all. Again, she had to wonder if April really had been growing and changing in a positive way on the commune. Sure, the primitive living situations pushed all of Dianna's buttons, but could it possibly be that roughing it in the woods was better for her sister than living in Dianna's penthouse condo in San Francisco?
Just then, the baby started crying and reaching for Dianna.
The woman laughed again. "She must think you're April. You two really do look a lot alike in so many ways." Pressing her lips to the baby's forehead, the mother cooed, "She's not April, baby girl," but it only made the baby cry harder.
The baby's wails tugged at Dianna's heartstrings and she held out her hands.
"Here. Let me try anyway."
A moment later, she was cradling the chubby infant in her arms, amazed when the baby's tears were immediately replaced with a gummy grin. Enthralled by her soft skin, her big brown eyes, and tiny little fingers, Dianna looked up to compliment the mother on her gorgeous child when she caught Sam's unblinking gaze.
It
wasn't hard to figure out what he was thinking: This could have been them ten years ago, had everything gone differently.
Sensing her distress, the baby started crying again and her mother picked her up out of Dianna's arms. "I know how exhausted you must be from your journey here today. Again, if there's anything I can do to help, please let me know."
Dianna compulsively cracked her knuckles as they headed out across the meadow to the spot in a circle of tall aspens where Peter had instructed them to set up their tent. Sam grabbed her hands and separated them for her.
"I'm sorry we didn't find out more from her friends," he said softly, still holding on to her fingers.
During the past couple of hours, she'd managed to hold it together, even though it seemed that they were even further from finding April than they'd been in the hospital. She'd desperately hoped that coming to the commune would provide them with answers, or at least clues. Instead, it had been a total bust.
The only thing she knew for sure was that she wouldn't be able to keep it together if he kept being so sympathetic.
She needed to get away from him.
"I need some privacy," she said as she pulled her hands out of his grasp. "Please."
Then she was tearing through the trees, stumbling over roots and rocks, her tears quickly morphing into sobs.
------
Sam understood why she wanted to be alone. They were similar that way, neither of them wanting to look weak in front of an audience. Instead, they both held everything they were feeling inside. When he realized she was sitting on a rock with her head on her knees, curled up into a ball, crying her eyes out, a pride of cougars couldn't have held him back.
Her head shot up when she heard his footsteps crunch through the dry leaves. She brushed the back of her hands across her eyes.
"Go away."
He knew why she was lashing out at him, knew that she was terribly worried, but he also knew she needed a loving friend more than she needed space. So he ignored her request and moved beside her on the rock. She was shivering and he didn't hesitate to put his arms around her.
"Why are you here?" she asked through chattering teeth, holding herself stiff in his arms.
"Because you need me," he said simply. "I know you're upset about April. I'm worried too, but we won't give up until we find her."
Her voice was muffled against his chest as she said, "All I've ever wanted was a happy family."
She began crying again, and he pulled her tighter, rhythmically stroking her back with his hands.
"I know you do, sweetheart," he said, the endearment feeling perfectly natural. Totally right.
If he were being totally honest with himself, wasn't a family all he'd ever wanted? Wasn't family what he'd tried to create with his crew? With his brother? Wasn't that why losing the baby and then Dianna had been such a crushing blow? Just when a real family had finally been within reach, he'd lost it all.
Silently, they held on to each other and it felt so good to be close to Dianna again that Sam almost forgot who was comforting whom.
A short while later, she lifted her cheek off his chest.
"Talking to April's friends makes me feel like I've really blown it with her all these years. Maybe I have been too controlling, too overprotective. Maybe I haven't listened to her enough."
He wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. "I doubt that's true. Sounds like you did everything you could for her."
"No, I really screwed up with her. She had another reason to leave, but I was too embarrassed to tell you about it in the hospital." She took a deep breath. "Right around Christmas, I had the really stupid idea of trying to get my mother and sister back together."
He raised an eyebrow. "It didn't go well, I take it?"
"You don't know how much of an understatement that is," she said on a hollow laugh. "It went terrible. Beyond terrible. April didn't want anything to do with Donna. Donna didn't want anything to do with April. And both of them were pissed at me for shoving them together."
She took a shaky breath. "I don't think my sister said ten words to me between that meeting and leaving for Colorado. And she was right to be angry. I had some stupid reconciliation fantasy in my mind that had absolutely nothing to do with reality."
She was trying to put a brave face on it, but Sam could see how deeply hurt she was by what had happened.
"Have you talked with your mother since then?"
"No way. Honestly, I haven't seen her much over the years anyway. Seeing how horrible she was to April pretty much closed that door for me forever."
Wanting to let her know that she wasn't alone, he confessed, "I haven't heard from my father since last year."
She met his eyes for the first time since he'd joined her on the rock.
"Why? What happened?"
He fought the urge to make light of the situation, to stuff it back down and pretend it didn't matter.
"My parents came to see Connor in the hospital last summer, right after he was burned. He was the only thing that mattered. The only thing they should have been focused on."
"Oh no, Sam, they didn't start fighting, did they?"
"Like goddamned cats and dogs, right there in his room. They've been ripping each other to shreds for thirty years and they couldn't put the brakes on it for fifteen minutes? All I could think was that even though he was heavily doped up on morphine, what if he could hear them? What if their petty grievances were seeping into his subconscious and holding him back from healing because he didn't want to deal with their bullshit anymore?"
Now she was the sympathetic one, saying, "What did you do?"
He scowled. "I dragged their asses out of the hospital. And told them not to set another foot inside his room if they couldn't be civil."
"You did a good thing," she said softly. "Protecting Connor."
"My mother came by to see me a couple weeks later. She'd decided to file for divorce."
"Oh, Sam. After thirty years, they couldn't figure things out?"
"If you ask me, filing for divorce was the good choice." His mouth quirked up on one side and he could see that she was surprised by his half smile. "She should have divorced his ass years ago. But she thought it would be better for Connor and me if she stuck it out."
"So she was only trying to do what was best?"
"Yeah, she was. I don't know what the hell my father was thinking all those years, though. He mostly wasn't around and didn't say much when he was."
Suddenly, Sam looked up, and as his eyes connected with hers, he realized he'd just delved deeper into his mixed emotions about his parents' marriage than he ever had before--even in his own head.
Dianna's hand came up to his cheek, her fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his chin.
"You're a good man, Sam. A good brother. And a good son."
He covered her hand with his and leaned close enough to taste her lips, which were warm and salty from her tears. She leaned into him and he licked them with slow strokes of his tongue, growing instantly hard when she moaned with pleasure.
Her tongue found his and their kiss deepened as one hand threaded through her hair, the other pulling her all the way onto his lap. Through her shirt and bra he could feel her nipples beading against the inside of his biceps, and his erection was cradled in her soft curves.
And then, suddenly, she was pushing out of his arms, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
"I'm sorry, Sam, it's not that I don't want to be with you." Her words rammed into each other like out-of-control train cars. "Obviously I do. More than anything. But--"
She put her hand over her mouth to stop the flow of words, and it took every ounce of control he possessed to play the nice guy and do the right thing.
"It's okay, Dianna," he managed to say despite the intense throbbing in his groin.
Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. "I heard what you said by the river, about not wanting to get involved with me again. And I respect that, Sam. I reall
y do. So even though I want to be with you, right now I'm afraid I'm not in any frame of mind for sex without strings." Giving him a crooked smile, she added, "And I wouldn't want to go all psycho on you later."
Fuck. He'd dug this hole himself, hadn't he? What could he do but agree with her that not having sex was for the best? After all, it was his idea in the first place.
Willing his erection to disappear, he stood up and reached for her hands in as nonsexual a way as he could.
"How about we eat something and turn in for the night? It's been one hell of a long day, and things always look better in the morning."
"I just wish we knew what to do next," she said as they made their way back to their tent.
"Do people always tell you everything the first time you interview them?" he asked her, trying like hell to refocus on finding April rather than how much he wanted the woman beside him.
Looking thoughtful, she said, "No. Not usually. Sometimes I have to pull the information out of them." She shot him a sidelong glance. "Do you think that's going to happen here?"
"My gut tells me that something will turn up tomorrow."
"I hope you're right."
He made them another quick meal of lumpy chicken and rice stew, and as they ate in silence, then got ready for bed, Sam had to ask himself if his emphatic insistence on not giving their relationship another shot had actually been on target.
Had he put too much emphasis on who they were ten years ago and not enough on who they are now?
Because wasn't the real question less about whether he'd be screwed if she left him again one day than it was about whether she'd truly want to be with him now? Would she be willing to give up her fancy name brands and champagne lunches for a simple man in turnouts and a work shirt?
"You take the tent," he told her. "I'm used to sleeping outside."
Clearly too tired to argue, she climbed into the tent and zipped it shut. But Sam lay awake in his sleeping bag, staring up at the stars, one final question haunting him as the moon rose higher in the sky.
Was he willing to risk everything for the woman he'd never stopped loving?
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
APRIL WOKE up with a start, her neck cracking as she lifted her head off her chest too quickly. Her shoulders ached and her legs and arms had gone numb beneath her bindings. Her mouth felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton, and she ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth trying to find any hidden pools of moisture, but it was a total waste of effort.