GINA WILKINS - The Stranger in Room 205

He was humbled by her blind faith in him. He hoped she was right. He wanted to believe he was one of the good guys, but for all he knew, he could be a bum or a con man. If the latter was true, he was pulling a hell of a scam this time. He’d even managed to fool himself.

Marjorie stood. “That’s all settled, then. I’m sure my daughter will be by to visit you later. You let her know if you need anything, you hear? We’ll take care of it.”

“Mrs. Schaffer—” He wanted to stand, but that didn’t seem like a very good idea just then, since he would probably fall flat on his face. “Are you sure about all this? As touched as I am by your faith in me, we both know I’m still very much a stranger to you. I would hate to disappoint you.”

She patted his head—exactly as though he were that sick child in need of reassurance, he couldn’t help thinking again. “My husband’s favorite quote was the one that says there are no strangers, only friends we haven’t met yet. Now that we’ve met, I’d like to think we’ll become friends, Sam. I’ll see you soon.”

Some time later he was still staring at the door through which she had disappeared, and still utterly bemused by her unexpected offers. Just what kind of place had he landed in, anyway? Very little so far seemed real to him.

The name Brigadoon flitted through his mind, and he had a vague idea that it was a fictional town with strange, magical properties. From a book he’d read, perhaps, or a film he’d seen—he couldn’t quite remember. He did remember that the people who lived there could never escape.

Was Edstown, Arkansas, his own personal Brigadoon?

Later that day, Serena paused in the doorway of the hospital room in a very uncertain frame of mind. Sam was lying in his bed, staring at the television mounted high on the wall. The TV was tuned to a cable news network, and he was watching as intently as though he would be tested on the subject matter later that evening. His expression was similar to the one that had tugged at her heartstrings before. The one that looked…lost.

“Mr. Wallace?”

He didn’t quite start, but she’d obviously taken him by surprise. He turned his head to look at her, then offered a faint smile of greeting. “Ms. Schaffer.”

“You called me Serena before,” she reminded him, stepping farther into the room.

“And you called me Sam before.”

“Yes.” She perched on the edge of the straight-backed visitor’s chair beside his bed. “I heard you met my mother today.”

“Yes. She’s quite…unusual. A delightful woman.”

“Both adjectives are correct,” she assured him. “She is delightful…and most definitely unusual.”

“Is she always so trusting of strangers?”

Watching his face closely, Serena shook her head. “She isn’t particularly gullible, if that’s what you’re asking—though I can see why you might think she is. She really is a shrewd judge of character, and a sharp businesswoman. She simply makes her decisions about people very quickly.”

“And she’s never been swindled by anyone she trusted so quickly?”

“Not as far as I know. At least, not in any significant way.”

He shook his head in obvious amazement. “That’s hard to believe. Did she tell you she offered me a job? And a place to live?”

She had, actually—and Serena’s first response had been dismay. “Have you lost your mind?” she had asked her mother. “You’ve invited a total stranger to live in our own backyard?”

“Serena, he’s a very nice man who needs our help,” Marjorie had answered calmly. “What kind of people would we be if we turned our backs on someone in that poor man’s circumstances?”

“And what will happen to us if he isn’t a very nice man?”

Marjorie had waved off the question with typical confidence in her own judgment, leaving Serena to do the worrying.

“My mother has a soft heart and a generous nature,” Serena said to Sam. “I would hate for anyone to try to take advantage of those traits.”

“If that’s a not-so-veiled warning, I received it loud and clear.”

She kept her smile cool. “I hope so.”

“I take it you don’t share your mother’s predilection for snap judgments.”

“I tend to be a bit more cautious about giving my trust.”

He was watching her now as closely as she’d studied him earlier. “That’s very wise of you.”

“The truth is, I’m not as good as my mother at reading people. I’ve learned to be more careful.”

“Personal experience being burned?”

“Once or twice.” She quickly changed the subject. “So you’re going to work in the diner. Do you have training for waiting tables?”

He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

She couldn’t help smiling at that. She would love to be around to watch his first encounter with her mother’s busy lunch crowd, all of them in a hurry to eat and return to their jobs. “Mom said you’re being released tomorrow. Do you know what time?”

“Sometime tomorrow morning. Before noon, they said.”

“I’ll be here to pick you up. Is there anything you need me to bring in the morning?”

His eyebrows rose. “You understand that your mother has offered to let me stay in your guest house?”

“Yes, I know. She’s probably dusting and freshening it as we speak.”

“And you have no objections to this arrangement?”

“I suppose not. After all, Mother already offered.”

“And you claim that she is the trusting one in the family?”

Serena wrinkled her nose at him, amused by his expression. “I don’t have to completely trust you to give you a hand in the morning. Not that I don’t trust you, of course,” she added quickly, in case he’d taken offense. “What I meant to say is—”

He laughed. The sound was so unexpected—and so pleasant—that it silenced her babbling. “I know what you meant,” he assured her. “And there’s no need to apologize. I appreciate your help. I hope I can find a way to repay you and your mother someday for the kindness you’ve shown me.”

Somewhat stiffly, she murmured, “I wasn’t apologizing.”

“Good.”

A young woman in teddy-bear-print scrubs carried a covered tray into the room. “Dinner, Mr. Wallace.”

He eyed the tray without enthusiasm. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a thick steak under there? Or maybe lasagna?”

With an apologetic smile, she set the tray on the wheeled bed table. “I’m afraid not. It’s macaroni and cheese with English peas and Jell-O.”

The look Sam gave Serena almost made her laugh. It was quite clear that he wasn’t looking forward to his dinner.

“There’s a corn bread muffin to go with it,” the young woman said almost anxiously, as if eager to please him. “I’ve heard the corn bread is pretty good.”

Displaying a smoothness that immediately set off Serena’s alarms, Sam gave the woman a near-blinding smile. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy it, then. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She almost stammered, and she was blushing when she hurried out of the room.

Serena doubted that this little hospital had seen many patients like golden-haired, blue-eyed, wicked-dimpled Sam Wallace. She’d heard gossip that the nurses had all but competed with each other to take his vital signs. LuWanda had told her in the hallway earlier that he was one of the nicest young men she’d ever taken care of. “So funny and polite,” she’d raved. “It’s such a shame about his circumstances. Something terrible must have happened to cause such a smart, obviously well-educated man to end up without a home or a job. No one to turn to in his time of need.”

“Maybe he’s just a loner,” Serena had suggested. “Someone who can’t stay in one place for very long. One of those guys who’s incapable of forming lasting attachments.”