You Can't Hide by Theresa Sneed (uplifting novels TXT) 📕

an unbelievable look, as if he hadn’t heard the “being followed” part, but had fixated on the boy instead.

“I’m Breccan.”

“He’s Breccan,” Sally said, at the same time. “Daddy,” she said with and exasperated sigh, “weren’t you even listening?”

“A white van’s been following us, Mr. Hadlock,” Breccan said, appearing to take courage in Sally’s words.

Ignoring the boy, Sam looked at the man with questioning eyes. “Did you see this van?”

Again, he waved Sam off, shaking his head. “No, sir, just believed them—wrongfully, I suppose.” He gave the two a doubtful look.

“Hold on,” Sally said, pushing her hand up to the man. “You mean, you don’t believe us?”

The man sighed. “Why would someone follow you, little lady?”

She fumed. “Yeah, why, Dad?” She glared at Sam and then at the man. Grabbing Breccan’s arm, she pushed past them and out the door. Sam followed her out.

“Sally.”

She stopped, but didn’t turn around. Sam came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. He spun her around. “Of course, I believe you,” he said firmly. “But . . .” He gave Breccan a sideways glance.

She tapped her foot. “But what?”

Sam pulled back. “You do have quite an active imagination, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widened.

“Well, you do, Sally.”

Her mouth dropped open. All three of her parents had mentioned her overactive imagination more than once in the past month. Seriously, how could she not have one, with what she’d been through? But to say something like that in front of Breccan was too much.

“Gah! You never listen to me.”

Sam reached for her. “Sally,” he said, placing his hand on her arm.

She pulled away. “Well, you don’t. You’re always at that stupid university, listening to your stupid students.” She scowled.

Sam made a face. “What? That’s insane.”

She threw her hands in the air. “You see? That’s what I’m talking about.” She dropped her hands and turned to Breccan. “Come on, let’s go.”

“Um, no,” Sam said, his face stern. “You’re coming home with me, right now.”

She gave him an incredulous look and glanced at Breccan who had taken a few steps backwards. “You too?” She balled her hands into fists at her sides. “Gah!”

Sam took her by the arm and led her toward his car. A few steps in, she glanced behind her and glared at Breccan, who gave her a sheepish grin and a small wave. Pulling away from Sam, she continued to walk beside him, determined to somehow get him to listen. He opened the car door and ushered her in.

“How come? Why won’t you believe me?”

He was silent and appeared to be deep in thought. Sally knew better than to interrogate him when he was driving. She had overheard him talking to Elle once about the fear he had of driving, from the jeep accident years ago. He had nearly died. She folded her arms across her chest and waited.

Instead of taking her home, he took her to the castle. Surrounded by extensive gardens, and with an open invitation, it was a place her family often visited. She loved it there. She got out of the car. Sam came around to her side of the car and put his hand in the small of her back. He led her to the gardens’ edge.

They walked silently for a few moments, until they came to her favorite spot, an array of wooden benches engulfed in bright flowers and lush, green vines. Large trees canopied the area, and cobblestone paths weaved at their feet, making the whole feel like a fairyland of wonder.

Sam sat down on one of the wooden benches. What? Did he expect her to just sit? Not going to happen. She narrowed her eyes, still upset. “Really, Dad?” She folded her arms and tapped her foot. Sweeping her hands out over the gardens, she frowned. Like bringing her here was supposed to calm her down or something.

She expected him to get it, but apparently, he did not. “Sit down, Sally.” It was not a request, but a demand.

“Gah.” She plopped down on a bench facing him. A narrow path separated the benches. If she’d wanted to, she could’ve reached over and touched him. She grimaced. Like that’s going to happen, she thought angrily.

“Listen, Sally, I know you’re upset.”

“Yeah?” she said, in a sarcastic tone. She turned her body slightly away.

He sighed. It was a sad sigh, and it confused Sally. She looked over at him.

He was bent over. His hands covered his face, and his elbows rested on his knees. He looked up at her and then sat up. “Listen, Sally,” he said again. “I cannot begin to imagine what’s in your head.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled, her lips pressed together tight.

“Here’s the thing—you can’t get into mine either.”

She blinked. Was this some kind of reverse psychology like her teacher was talking about the other day?

“Every day, I get up early in the morning and go to work to put food on our table and to—”

Blah, blah, blah, she thought, as he continued describing a typical day in his life. It appeared as though he had flipped the subject to himself, once again forgetting all about her needs.

“—and so I wonder if you get how I feel,” he said.

“Sure. I get it. I know all about how it feels to be ignored.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“It’s not your fault if you don’t get thirteen-year-old girls, Dad.”

“Oh,” he said, apparently deep in thought. “I see.” He leaned over and patted her knee. “So, I get that you’re, um, growing up.” He looked away. He seemed not too happy about that fact, which irritated her even more.

“Uh, yeah,” she spewed out.

“So, um, I know both of your mothers have given you, you know, the talk.”

Really? “Yes, Dad,” she quipped, rolling her eyes.

“And this Breccan fella, you kind of like him, don’t you?” He seemed to force a grin.

She jumped up. “What? Breccan? No.”

He seemed relieved and confused at the same time. “Are we talking about the same thing?”

A sudden rush of tears filled her eyes. “Apparently not. Breccan’s just a good