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Then, Now, Always

Page 2

by Mona Shroff


  “Yeah, okay.” He closed his eyes against the creep of agitation.

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  He hung up and stared at his screen saver. Maybe she was right—nice guys don’t always get elected. And he did need that congressional seat.

  Sam’s mother, Hema, had introduced him to Paige three years ago at a fund-raiser held in the art gallery Paige owned. Sam’s father, John, had seemed to like Paige, and despite the fact that his mother was the one making the introductions, Sam had been quite taken with Paige. And that hadn’t happened in a long time.

  Paige was as intelligent and ambitious as any woman he’d ever known, and since they’d been together, she had been his partner in every way—she always made sure he saw the big picture and didn’t stray from his goal, which was ultimately a seat in Congress and beyond.

  Without conscious thought, Sam pulled a well-worn coin from his pocket that he always carried, and flipped it in the air. It landed with a small thud in the palm of his hand as it always did, the weight of it a comfort. Paige was right: maybe he should look out for his own interests more. He returned the coin to his pocket.

  His phone buzzed again. Dad. Sam answered, a smile on his face. “Hey, Dad.”

  His father’s smile came right through the phone. “Hey, Sammy. I need a favor.”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “I went to that nursing home today to do a few house calls—and something’s not right there. I’m thinking neglect—and maybe some of the employees are stealing. Is there something you can do about that—legally?”

  Sam inhaled as if taking in patience from the very air around him. He fielded at least one of these kinds of requests from his father every couple months. “Dad, I’m not that kind of lawyer—I’ve told you.”

  “Yes, but these people have nobody looking out for their interests. Their families are too busy, and no one really notices—”

  “Dad, I’m in the middle of a huge case—and anyway, that’s in Maryland, what do you want me to do from Manhattan? Isn’t there someone else you can ask?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “But I’m not that kind of lawyer.”

  “Well, maybe you should be.” Disappointment oozed through the phone as readily as the smile.

  “Dad...” Sam tried to assuage his guilt by pointing out the obvious. “I can’t be. Not if I want to run for office.” He needed the big profile cases, not the little ones that didn’t get noticed.

  “Never mind. I’ll figure something out.”

  John disconnected before Sam could say anything else. He stared out the window at the busy street below, and his mind wandered to that nursing home and its residents. Those poor people. But why was it his problem? Didn’t he just decide it was best to take care of his own interests? He turned his attention to his phone, which was heavy with his father’s request.

  With a sigh, he sent his father a text. Send me the name of the place. I’ll look into it and see if my friend Janice from law school is still in that area. Maybe she can help.

  The response from his father was almost immediate. I knew I could count on you.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sam said out loud. He shut down his computer and gathered his things, gym bag included. As he slipped his phone into his pocket and peered out the window down to Lexington Avenue, he made a mental note to research that facility. It was already dark, and Manhattan was lighting up for the evening. People pulled their coats tighter against the fall chill as they navigated the always vigorous New York City streets.

  Sam put on his coat and headed down in the elevator. He nodded good-night to the night watchmen in the lobby and pushed the door open to the cool evening air outside. A brisk walk to the gym would be a nice warm-up, so he picked up his pace.

  Thoughts about the case, the new evidence he’d found and the nursing home claimed his attention. So when he heard his name, in that voice, he started, nearly bumping into someone. He hadn’t heard that voice in sixteen years, but it was never too far from his memory. As he turned, he knew he was being summoned by his past.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MAYA

  New York, 2012

  DESPERATION HAD MAYA waiting for Sam against the office building. A Google search had easily told Maya that Sam worked in this building as a corporate lawyer. Maya wasn’t surprised, just disappointed.

  Maya stayed in the building’s shadow as she decided what to do. If he saw her first, he might just walk away, and that would not do. A review of her finances had confirmed what she knew: there wasn’t any money for a lawyer. She fiddled with her pendant of Ganesha, the remover of all obstacles. Well, here is a huge obstacle. Remove it. She shivered in the evening chill.

  She had considered making an appointment with Sam under a false name, but then everyone on his staff would have seen her. She didn’t need that. He certainly didn’t need that. All she needed was for him to take care of Samantha’s situation and she’d be on her way. She had gone home with Samantha this morning and distracted herself with work until she could find an excuse to return to Manhattan. She guessed that Sam would leave the office sometime after six, and planned on waiting in this spot until he came out.

  The office door opened, and her heart hammered in her chest as if it recognized him before her eyes did. She could tell it was him, just from his walk. Confident without being cocky, Sam had the stride of an athlete. He was wearing a long coat over his suit, which did nothing to hide the fact that his shoulders were broader than she remembered. Not for the first time, she wondered how else he had changed in the past sixteen years. He turned his head slightly, and Maya swallowed hard as she took in his strong jawline and the weak-knee-inducing smile she remembered so well. Not to mention that dimple. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Maybe there was another way. What was she thinking, dredging up the past like this? He started walking away. No, she needed him for Samantha. Maybe she should have at least put on some lipstick.

  Maya jolted back to reality. “Sam! Sam Hutcherson!”

  He turned at the sound of her voice, and Maya’s breath caught. She remembered how the brown of his eyes could blaze as if lit from inside, or smolder as if made from melted chocolate. She quickly flashed to the last time she’d seen them—hard as coal, red-rimmed, wounded. Tonight, his eyes were sharp. He dropped his bag.

  “Sam, it’s me.” Her stomach fluttered.

  Sam opened his mouth, but paused before he spoke. “Maya?” It was barely a whisper. “Maya.” In an instant, his voiced changed, becoming stronger, cooler—indifferent. “What are you doing here?”

  The sound of his voice, without the warmth it used to hold for her, was familiar and foreign all at the same time. Like a favorite song she hadn’t heard in a long while, but to which she still knew the words. She took a few steps closer to him. Had he always been this tall? She took in air to steady herself. “Sam.” She held her hands palm-up, as if trying to calm an unpredictable animal, her voice soft but determined. “I know it’s been a lifetime. I just need to talk to you.”

  He darted his eyes from his gym bag to her and back to the gym bag.

  “Please, Sam, I know I have no right.” She risked another step closer. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I had another choice.” Her voice trembled, despite her confident words. The all-too-familiar burn built up behind her eyes as tears threatened to fall. She blinked them away.

  “Trust you?” He turned the hard-as-coal eyes on her as he shifted his weight and crossed his arms in front of him.

  “I’m desperate, Sam.” It was from instinct rather than conscious thought that she waited for him to drop his hands to his pocket and tap his coin like he used to. He kept his gaze fixed on her, but sure enough, he released his arms and tapped his pocket. She met his eyes. Maya had seen Sam flip that coin countless times, always with the words, “Heads, we do this, t
ails, we do that.” Though the last time she’d heard those words from him, she had left him.

  He clenched his jaw and she could almost feel the heat radiating off him in waves of mistrust and suspicion. Understandable. She fought to maintain eye contact with him. With a pang of sadness, she realized that his face, once an open pathway to his emotions, was now unreadable to her. He shook his head and sighed, mumbling something to himself as he rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin. Did his hands still hold the calluses she remembered? Was his touch still as gentle? She flushed. Sam huffed and adjusted his bag.

  “Fine,” he said, finally. His tone was terse, but something about him had softened. “Coffee. I can do coffee.” He indicated that she lead the way and they fell into step together.

  Maya peeked at him through the corner of her eye as they walked in silence. Milky latte. She rolled her eyes at herself. She couldn’t help it. The coffee roastery was her life-blood, so colors and scents came to her in terms of coffee. Sometimes even chai. She glanced at him again. Yes. His skin was the color of a milky latte and he had a slight five o’clock shadow.

  She had expected that he wouldn’t be thrilled to see her, but she hadn’t expected him to still be so angry. It had been sixteen years, after all. She glanced up at him again and noticed something was different. His nose, maybe?

  “Did you break your nose?” Small talk. Innocent enough, though she cringed at the idea of making small talk with Sam. They’d gone from lighthearted jabs to deep conversation on their first date.

  Sam stared straight ahead and though they weren’t touching, the air between them charged with tension. “You could say that.” He grumbled at her and lengthened his stride.

  Maya cleared her throat and looked away. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by her reaction to him. That would only make this harder.

  They ordered their coffees and Maya pulled out her credit card to pay.

  “I got it.” Sam stepped in front of her and handed the barista a twenty. When he had reached into his wallet to get the cash was beyond Maya. Some men just had that knack. Turned out Sam was one of them.

  “No, it’s fine. I came to you...” Maya placed her card in front of his bill.

  Sam barely afforded her a glance. He moved his twenty in front of her card and flashed the barista a small smile. That did it. The barista flushed and took the twenty.

  Maya rolled her eyes inwardly and put her credit card away. “Well, thank you.”

  They found a table in the back of the coffee shop and settled in with their coffees. Chatter spilled from nearby tables of professionally attired people conducting after-hours meetings. From the coffeehouse speakers, Taylor Swift adamantly proclaimed that “we are never ever ever getting back together.” Sam sat back, his arms folded across his chest. Words froze in Maya’s throat.

  She shifted in her seat, noting Sam’s tight jaw and tense muscles. She straightened. Now or never. “You seem to have done well.” She brought her cup to her lips and took a sip, allowing the hot liquid to warm her.

  “I get by.”

  “No, I mean—you being a lawyer—you’re not doing exactly what you said you would be doing, but you seem to be doing well.” Maya faltered, and quickly added, “I’m not here for money.”

  “I didn’t think you were.” Sam removed the lid from his cup and blew on the hot liquid.

  “How’s your dad?”

  Sam sipped slowly. “Fine.”

  “And your mom?” Maya’s voice cracked.

  “What do you want, Maya?” Sam snapped at her.

  She tensed. “I need your help with a legal matter.”

  Sam reverted to silence. He replaced the lid and took another sip of coffee.

  “I know you’re well connected, and I also know you’re engaged to be married and that you’re on your way to a congressional bid.” Maya paused for a sip of her coffee.

  “Google.” Sam’s response was terse; his gaze did not waver.

  “Yes, well.” She flicked her eyes to the table next to them as a woman in business attire pushed her laptop aside and placed her hand on top of her companion’s. Maya shifted again in her seat. “Anyway, I want you to know that I’m not trying to disrupt your life in any way. I know we left things badly, but I’m desperate.”

  “We?” Sam raised his eyebrows at her.

  Maya sighed. “Me, I—whatever. Not the point.”

  It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “What is the point, Maya?” He gestured with his coffee cup; he was half finished.

  Maya took a deep breath. Just do it. It’s for Samantha. “The point is that I have a daughter who is being wrongly accused of drug possession and assault,” she began. “The authorities and some parents want to press charges. The school may expel her. She was already in trouble for shoplifting, so I can’t have anyone press charges.” She paused for breath.

  Sam furrowed his brow. “You have a daughter?”

  “She’s a really good kid. Just made a mistake, and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Sam said nothing.

  For the first time, Sam leaned in toward her. But his face was still a mask. “When did you get married?”

  Maya gulped her coffee and crossed and uncrossed her legs. She glanced at the neighboring table. The man reached out to the woman and tucked back a stray lock of hair that had come loose. She smiled at him. Maya cleared her throat. “I didn’t.”

  Sam followed her gaze, and then quickly turned back to her, looking at her, for a moment, just as he used to all those years ago. Their eyes accidentally locked and the moment evaporated. He spoke slowly, as if yellow caution signs surrounded her. “Where’s her dad? Why can’t he help?”

  Sweat beaded on her upper lip and forehead, and Maya fought the urge to wipe at it while still avoiding Sam’s eyes. “He’s not around.” She rallied and took the offensive. “Why else would I come to you, after all this time?”

  Sam stared at her, biting his bottom lip and shaking his head. Maya tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and opened her mouth, prepared to beg him for help.

  “This is not my area,” Sam said, his voice matter-of-fact. “Not to mention my fiancée would have a fit if she knew we were even talking.” He stood, pulled out his wallet and handed Maya a card. “Give this person a call. Mention my name. She’ll help you out.”

  Maya looked up at him, her heart racing and speech failing her. What was happening?

  “No, Sam, wait!”

  He put on his coat.

  Panic made her voice squeak. “An attorney implies that I need the charges dropped. Can’t we just get them never started?” Her stomach churned as Sam picked up his bag.

  Sam shook his head. “No, Maya. Sorry.” He studied her face for a moment and Maya caught a glimpse of something warm in his melted-chocolate eyes. It was gone as fast as it came. He started out the door.

  Maya was momentarily frozen in her chair. Sam was her only option. Samantha could not be arrested. She grabbed her phone and chased him outside. He was almost half a block away. The sun had set completely and the fall chill had turned bitter cold, but she barely noticed it as she ran to catch up to him.

  “Sam! Wait!”

  Miraculously, he did.

  “Look,” Maya spoke quickly, lest he walk away. “I run the bakery. Well, it’s not so much just a bakery anymore, it’s—never mind, the point is that I don’t have—the funds for an attorney right now.”

  “Maya, I’ll call her, give her a heads-up that you’ll be calling. I’ll ask her to waive—”

  “No, wait.” Tears of desperation burned behind her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “If they press charges, there’s a good chance she’ll have to go to juvie—”

  “No, she won’t. This person is very good at—”

  “No, Sam, you don’t get it!” Maya almost shouted at him as she fumbl
ed with her phone. She was shivering and her phone wouldn’t respond immediately to her touch—it was taking forever to get what she wanted on the screen.

  “I think I understand the law,” Sam said with exaggerated patience. “It’ll be fine.”

  “Sam! Just stop talking and look!” She finally found the screen she wanted and shoved her phone in front of him. “This is Samantha. She turned fifteen. In April.”

  Sam’s features slowly froze as he took in the picture. His eyes held an expression Maya had never seen and couldn’t define. Samantha’s eyes were a dazzling chocolate brown, and she had curly, chestnut-colored hair. Her skin, like Sam’s, was the color of a milky latte. Maya’s heart thumped as she watched him turn pale and meet her eyes. He knew.

  But she still had to say it. “She’s yours, Sam. Samantha is our daughter.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SAM

  Maryland, 1996

  SAM HASTILY LIFTED himself out of the pool when he heard the doorbell and grabbed a towel to dry off. The DJ on the radio announced he’d be playing the song that had inspired the latest dance craze, the Macarena, and his little cousins cheered. He did a couple quick steps with them and was still laughing when he opened the door.

  The towel slipped from his grip and fell to the ground.

  She was standing in the unseasonably sweltering Maryland heat in full business attire, sweating, but subtly. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked from him to the towel and back. She stared, not speaking, into his eyes. Sam’s heart raced.

  He managed to pick up the towel and toss it over his shoulder as he folded his arms across his chest to gather himself and buy some time. It was her eyes that threw him. Honey-colored against her brown skin, they were shy and self-conscious. They turned slightly darker, and looked bolder, as she spoke.

  “Hello. I’m Maya Rao. I’m here to see Mrs. Mehta regarding the nanny position.” Her voice was confident and had the remnants of a British accent. Sam’s mouth was suddenly unable to take direction from his brain, and so he remained silent.

 

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