The McRae Series 01 - Twelve Days Sam and Rachel

going to put this behind me," she said. "For the first time, I believe I can. When I was on my way back here, I ended up walking past the Parker mansion. I don't think I ever saw it at night, not once all the work was done. And I stood there staring up at the windows I did, and they're beautiful, Sam."
    "They are," he said.
    "And I thought, I did that. They were such a mess when they came down one by one. There were all those little bits of glass, some of them dirty, some of them broken and chipped, some of them worn down over time, the colors all fading away. I remember how overwhelming the whole project seemed at first. I didn't think I'd ever manage it or why they would have put such faith in me. But you told me how to do it, and before you, my grandfather had. You said to take it one step at a time, one piece, that it was like a puzzle and if I stood there just staring at how big it was and how much had to be done, I'd never finish it. I'd likely never start it. I'd give up without really trying.
    "It took the better part of a year, and there were lots of times when I thought I'd never be able to put all the pieces back together in the right way, never make anything of it. But looking at it tonight, I can see that I did. There was a place for everything. I put it all back together and it's beautiful now," she said. "Do you know what I'm getting at?"
    "I'm not sure."
    "This is my place. It's a mess right now, and I've been standing back staring at it and thinking it was just too much, too overwhelming, that I'd never get it all back together. I think that paralyzed me for a while, but I'm done letting it. I'm ready to go to work now, no matter what it takes, no matter how much time, and you and I both know how to do that, Sam. We both put things back together. I'm going to stop being so sad and so angry all the time. I'm going to believe that you married me because you loved me—"
    "I did," he said, feeling hopeful for the first time that he'd actually made her believe that.
    "And I know I married you for the same reason. I will never understand or be able to explain all the things that happened to us later, but I think things can get better, Sam. I think we can put all the pieces back together. I have so much faith in you—"
    "In me?"
    "Yes. And in us."
    Oh, damn. Look what she was giving him. So much faith. He never dreamed... And he owed her. He owed her the truth about himself. "Rachel, you don't really know me. There are things I never told you."
    "About when your parents died?"
    He nodded. "Things I never wanted you or anyone else to know."
    "Sam, it doesn't matter. It doesn't change who you are now. It all happened before we ever met. All those things are just what made you the man I've always known, the one I've always loved."
    He thought about that. Really thought about it. By the time she'd met him, all of those things had already happened. She'd never known him the way he'd been before, had never known the little boy nobody wanted, who got passed from house to house seemingly at a whim. He'd never wanted her to know. He hated that boy, hated the weakness in him, the neediness, the sorrow.
    All that had ever come out was the rage. By the time someone found Sam's paternal grandfather and convinced the man to take him in, Sam was capable of being every bit as nasty as his grandfather. He had been consumed with anger and stubborn pride and shame, illogical as that was.
    "I can't imagine what you ever saw in me," he said.
    "I saw you, Sam, and all those things you tried so hard to hide."
    And in her, he had seen everything he'd ever wanted. She was the most beloved daughter of one of the oldest families in town, with two parents who obviously loved her, three sisters and a brother, all of whom indulged her terribly, plus a host of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Her roots were as deeply imbedded in this town as the massive hundred-year-old oak tree in the town square. Her place in the world had been absolutely assured. It was here, in that old house of her grandparents', surrounded by people who loved her.
    "You should have hated me on sight," he said.
    "Never. I could never hate you."
    Somehow, she'd been practically the only one in town to see through that sullen look that was so often on his face. The one he hid that pitiful little boy he used to be behind. That and the I-don't-give-a-damn attitude.
    "I would have thought you'd run from me as fast as you could," he said. Instead, she'd followed him around