Some Day Somebody Read online

  ***

  Early August

  Damn, my life sucks.

  Sam Langley stared up at the August evening sky from the front porch of his home. Today marked the unwelcome anniversary of his first year as a single man—middle aged, single, and not enjoying it in the least. Funny the divorce should finalize on the exact same day.

  God it was hot. The dog days of summer were upon them, with no relief in sight for at least another month, maybe even two. July had broken records for heat and humidity levels, causing temps to rise into triple digits. He braced both hands on the porch rails, and breathed in air that was hot and dense with moisture. Nothing compared to summertime in south Louisiana.

  As fast as it got here, it’d be gone. Before long, he’d be surrounded by the sights, sounds and smells of Fall…Parents calling kids in to do homework, music and cadences drifting over from the stadium as the high school marching band practiced routines for Friday night’s game, the smell of leaves burning, or the occasional lit fireplace as someone took advantage of the first cool snap. Fall meant lower temps and drier air as humidity levels dropped, causing the entire population to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

  Normally, he’d welcome the sights and sounds of the fall months. It meant the reddish gold of leaves as they turned, and the calls of Speckle Bellied and Blue geese flying in from the north, precise in their V-formations. Unfortunately, along with football season and shorter days, the fall season would also bring the long, lonely nights he dreaded.

  He walked inside to answer his ringing phone, thankful for the interruption of his personal pity party. A smile crossed his face as he recognized his married daughter’s number on the caller ID, no doubt calling to check up on her old man again.

  “Hey Pop, how you doing tonight?”

  “I’m okay, Amanda. You and Joe just making it back from your mom’s?”

  “Uh huh, I know how you worry so I called to let you know.”

  “I’m glad you did. Is your brother walking home?”

  “One of Nick’s buddies picked him up. He asked me to let you know he’ll be riding around for an hour or so.”

  “Okay, hon.” He paused. “How’s your mom and everyone on that end?”

  “Everyone’s okay.”

  Sam heard a catch in her voice and waited through the awkward moment of silence. “What?”

  “It’s just that, I was a little surprised when she told me the divorce went through.”

  Sam heard the hesitation in her voice.

  “Why didn’t you tell us, Pop?”

  He clenched his jaw and took the phone out to the porch with him. “I didn’t want to involve you in our mess.”

  Amanda spoke quietly. “I would rather have heard the news while I was home, so I could mope in private.”

  “I’m sorry.” He released his breath in a long, slow hiss. “One year ago, I never would have believed I’d be facing another summer—another fall, and all of those damn holidays—alone again.” Being single for the holidays was number one on his list of least favorite things.

  “You have us.”

  “I know. I appreciate having you kids around, too. But…” That won’t put a damper on those long, lonely winter nights.

  Sam stood still and listened to the sounds of small town life. The young mother from next door pleading with her husband to help get their two rowdy boys settled—a barking dog down the street—the slow steady rhythm of the train’s freight cars clattering along the rail six blocks to the west. “When your mother left me a year ago, I really believed she’d be back by the end of the month.” Like all the other times she left in our twenty-one year marriage.

  “We all thought the same thing, but I guess Mom had other plans.”

  Sam grunted in agreement as he heard Amanda cover the phone and speak to someone else in a muffled voice.

  “I need to go now, Daddy. Are you gonna be okay?”

  Sam smiled at the label that called to mind images from years past. His little girl, with banged up knees, big brown eyes, a constant pixie grin, and long, black pigtails…now twenty years old with a husband of her own. “You go on and get back to Joe. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you too, baby girl.”

  Sam ended the call and stood there, remembering the day Linda left. How the first month’s confidence in her return had slowly disintegrated when two months stretched into three, then four. The loneliness had eaten at him, eventually forcing him to accept the death of his marriage. It ended the only life he’d known for over two decades, with the only woman he’d ever known, in the biblical sense, anyway.

  He found himself twisting the plain, gold wedding band he’d continued to wear, even though Linda had discarded hers immediately.

  He pulled it off and raised it skyward to view the partial moon telescopically through the circle of gold. Sam palmed the ring before walking to the end of the sidewalk then out to the middle of the street. Without giving it another glance, he wound up and pitched it as far as he could into the night. He never heard it land but knew it was gone, long gone, like his wife and marriage.

  Heat enveloped him as he made his way back to the porch. Sam dropped heavily onto the top step, feeling the residual warmth from the cement. As miserable as it was out here, he dreaded going back inside.

  Sam gazed up at the star studded sky, amazed at how much he sucked at going solo. He’d have at least thought he’d enjoy being able to watch what he wanted on television, but he didn’t. He hated being alone, hated shopping for groceries alone, and hated not having a reason to shave. Scratching at his three day growth of beard, he thought of his king size bed and how much he hated sleeping alone. It wasn’t even the sex, although he missed that, too. It was being in that big old bed, with nobody to talk to at night.

  Sam wiped a hand roughly over his eyes. I’m lonely, damn it all. He stood up slowly and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his denim shorts. He looked up at the sky as though he were talking to God. “So what the hell do I do now, huh? What do you have in store for this old man?”

  Old man? He shifted uneasily at the thought of his birthday around the corner. Being thirty-nine and single hadn’t done much for his mood at work. He doubted moving into the fourth decade of his life would be any better. He’d gone from the office clown to ‘Oscar the Grouch’ in no time at all. At first the nickname his survey crew gave him had been an inside joke, but his ever present surliness had made it too easy for the rest of his co-workers to adopt it. He prayed something changed before it became a permanent condition. Sam emitted a low growl at the thought. The last thing he needed was to be forever associated with one of Jim Henson’s Muppets.

  God must have one hell of a sense of humor.

  CHAPTER 2

  Mid August

  Carrie followed her new supervisor around the office as he gave her the grand tour.

  Dale spoke in a quiet drawl, typical of people raised in the northern parishes of Louisiana. “Counting you, we have five designers, and a five man survey party. That’s headed by Sam Langley, here,” he said, pointing to someone just walking into the front door. “Nice of you to join us, Langley, you want to introduce Carrie to your bunch?”

  Carrie turned and found herself facing a big, barrel chest covered in a blue chambray work shirt. She lifted her gaze up…up…to the tall, broad-shouldered man standing before her. Striking blue eyes, nearly the same color as his shirt, held her attention as he stared solemnly down at her.

  The fair haired man nodded, and introduced each of his crew members in a business-like manner before retreating into a nearby office.

  Carrie watched him walk away, wondering if she had done something to offend him.

  The only other woman in the office walked by with a mug of coffee and offered her hand. “Hey, I’m Roxanne but everyone calls me Roxie. Don’t pay any attention to Oscar.”

  Carrie’s gaze danced from one stranger to the next. “I don’t remem
ber meeting an Oscar.”

  Roxie sipped her coffee and motioned toward the office that mister big, blonde, and blue-eyed had disappeared into. “Sam Langley, aka Oscar the Grouch.”

  “Yeah, I noticed he didn’t look like a happy camper.”

  “He’s been cranky since his wife left him over a year ago,” Roxie explained.

  Carrie sucked in her breath and grimaced. “I know the feeling. I’m waiting for my divorce to finalize any day now.”

  Roxie wiggled the fingers of her left hand to flash her wedding ring. “I’ve been through it, too, but now I’m on my third husband.”

  Carrie cringed at the woman’s confession. “Are you one of those people who walk on broken glass for kicks?”

  Roxie put her head back and laughed. “Men…Can’t live with ‘em, too damn broke to live without ‘em.”

  ***

  Before Carrie knew it, she’d been at her job for two weeks. She enjoyed the relaxed working environment and had already formed lasting friendships with her co-workers, or most of them, anyway.

  On the second day of September she glanced up from her studying as members of the office car pool entered from the back door, as usual, nearly ten minutes late. From her own brief experience with the carpool, she was well aware of who to blame.

  She’d never forget the embarrassment of being fifteen minutes late her second day on the job because of Sam’s inability to get to work on time.

  She’d sat in that truck with the others, waiting for Sam, and seething at his tardiness. The driver, a member of his survey crew, refused to leave without him, so they waited at his designated pick-up spot until he finally arrived, fifteen minutes later than he should have been. Once he’d taken his sweet time to settle himself in his front seat place of honor, she’d given him a verbal chew-out he’d accepted with pure indignation. Since then, anytime they were in the vicinity of each other, the room temperature dropped to match her icy disregard for her co-worker.

  She met Sam’s gaze briefly, as he dropped coins into the soft drink machine, before returning her attention to her study guide.

  “Look at you, hard at it this early in the morning. I’m so impressed.”

  Carrie responded in a dry monotone. “Goody…I can sleep at night.” She knew little about the man, other than the fact that Oscar seemed to be in a perpetual bad mood.

  He folded his long body over to retrieve his can of Coke, and walked slowly toward her desk. “What’cha got there?”

  “A study guide,” she said, returning to her book. The sooner she could get a couple of certifications under her belt, the better. Certifications plus time, meant a raise in pay, and boy did she need that. She’d just tanked up her car for the second time, since dropping out of the car pool. With the price of gas, her paychecks wouldn’t go far.

  “Hmph,” he grunted, popping the lid on his drink. “That’s all you ever do is study. What’s the hurry? If you needed the money you’d still be in the carpool.”

  She stared up at the man, shocked at his nerve. “If you’ll think back, genius, I tried that.”

  “Uh huh, you got all uppity with me then dropped out.”

  Carrie pointed at the large wall clock next to the entrance. “I can’t come to work late on a new job. Do you even know the meaning of probationary period?”

  “Aw, five minutes here and there won’t hurt anyone,” he said, his tone a mixture of teasing and serious-as-a-heart-attack.

  She blew out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, Sam…Whatever.” She returned her attention to her studies and flipped her notebook to a fresh sheet with a snap of her wrist.

  “It’s not whatever,” he said, sounding overly confident. “It’s what is.”

  When she ignored the comment, the smart thing for Sam to do would have been to walk away. Instead, he leaned one elbow on her desk, as though daring her to confront him.

  Bantering with three brothers and a nearly ex-husband had left Carrie sharp-tongued, sharp witted, and itching to put him in his place. Being the new girl, however, she thought it safer to ignore his taunt, lest her position of ‘Last Hired’ become ‘Next Fired’.

  She tapped the eraser of her mechanical pencil in time to Toby Keith’s Should Have Been a Cowboy coming from the piped in speaker system. She tried to concentrate on the text in front of her, an impossible feat when she could feel Sam’s blue eyed gaze tracking her every movement.

  “Carrie…” he goaded.

  “Go away, Sam.”

  “Uh unh, you want to fight, I can see it in your face.” He stepped back from the desk and picked up his fists, assuming a playful fighting posture. “Come on, Carrie. Let’s fight.”

  “What’s in it for me?” she asked, pivoting in her stool to meet his gaze head on. “Besides getting fired, I mean.”

  Sam’s brow furrowed as his hands dropped halfway. “Is that what you’re afraid of?”

  She answered with one raised eyebrow.

  “You’d practically have to kill someone to get fired from this place.”

  Carrie pursed her lips as she heard Dale’s smug comment from behind her. “That could happen sooner than you think if you don’t leave her the hell alone, Langley.”

  “I ain’t afraid of her,” he snorted. “If she had the gumption she’d have done something about it by now.”

  Carrie released an irritated sigh and slammed her book closed. She stepped down from the stool at her desk and walked up to Sam, meeting his amused gaze with a sober one of her own. “You’ve got some damn nerve, Sam Langley.”

  The office buzzed like opening night of a Broadway musical as co-workers gathered in anticipation of a verbal throw down. “Git him, Carrie,” Dale said from his spot behind her. “That ornery son-of-a-gun has had it comin’ fer over a year, now.”

  Her mouth tightened to suppress a grin at her supervisor’s vote of confidence. She focused her attention completely on Sam, and though she stretched to her full height, still had to look up to face the irritating giant of a man.

  She placed one finger on his broad chest, and gave him a light shove. “Who the hell are you to make that car pool late every morning?”

  He dropped his fist to his sides. “It’s not every morn-”

  “Every morning,” she interrupted, poking his chest to make her point. “You made me fifteen minutes late my second day on the job.” She watched as Sam took a step back and stared down his nose at her.

  “Do you have two different colored eyes?”

  Her gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t try to change the subject, you big Red Neck.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?”

  “That’s weird.”

  “You’re weird.”

  He cocked his head slightly to the side as one corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “Aw, is that the best you can do?”

  “And you’re inconsiderate. Despite what your mommy must have raised you to believe, the world does not revolve around you.”

  “Maybe it should,” he added, grinning down at her.

  She straightened her shoulders and took a step closer to him. “You’re like one of those bullies in elementary school. Just because you’re the biggest kid on the playground you think you can get away with anything.”

  From her desk in the corner of the room, Roxie threw her head back in laughter. “Boy, does she have you pegged.”

  “I’m not a bully.”

  Carrie dismissed his denial with a flippant wave of her hand. “I say you are.”

  It didn’t take long for Sam to retaliate. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, lady. I am not a bully.”

  She turned away, giving him an insignificant shrug, and climbed back up on her stool. “I bet you were a spoiled brat, too.” She grinned as the members of his crew doubled over with laughter. That is until Sam aimed a glare in their direction. She watched him point to the back exit before addressing the four men.

  “We have five miles of r
oadway to survey by the end of the day. Your asses better be in that truck by the time I walk out of here.”

  Members of Sam’s survey crew attempted to wipe the grins from their faces as they grabbed equipment and headed for the door.

  “Come on, Sam,” Carrie said, clucking her tongue. “Don’t take it out on the guys just because you lost an argument with a woman.”

  “Yeah, Baby Sam,” Roxie added from her desk.

  Carrie raised a curious brow at Roxie’s last statement as Sam turned and walked abruptly into his office. “What’s that all about?”

  “He’s the baby of the family and the only boy,” Roxie explained.

  Carrie chuckled at the tidbit of information. “Now that explains a lot. Do they still call you that?” Her gaze followed Sam as he exited his office with a clipboard tucked under one arm.

  He stopped in front of her desk. “Didn’t I hear you tell Roxie you have seven brothers and sisters?”

  “I sure do,” she admitted.

  “Then I guess you can’t help being jealous of the way I was raised…You being from of a litter of eight, and all.”

  Her eyebrows arched in shock. “Oh, my God. They do, don’t they?” She slapped her hand on her book. “Of course they do. By the way, I’m glad I came from a large family. At least I wasn’t spoiled rotten.”

  From her desk in the corner, Roxie snorted with laughter again.

  Sam threw a glare in her direction. “Hey, Rox, just sit there with your little crossword and be quiet.”

  Carrie watched as Roxie waved off Sam’s comment in silence. “You’re not going to let him get away with that, are you?”

  Roxie gave her a brief nod. “I just ignore him. He’s been useless around here for the last year, anyway.”

  Carrie heard Sam’s grunt of dismissal before he turned to walk away. He had no idea his comment had put the challenge back into her cause. “Sam, I think you owe her an apology.”

  “She called me useless. I don’t owe her anything.”

  “You’re an inconsiderate, spoiled, bully and you owe her an apology,” she insisted.

  Sam scowled and settled back on his heels, arms crossed in stubborn defiance.