Sam nodded.
“Is your father letting you take your friends to the lake house?”
“I wish.” Sam shook her head. “That’s never gonna happen in a million years.” Labor Day weekend was only a week and a half away and then her senior year of high school was going to start after that. If she had any guts, she’d ask again, but when it came to pushing Gerald Payton, only fools tried it.
“And all of this has you playing the Theme from Schindler’s List?”
Sam nodded. “That and I seem to have forgotten how to play softball and Coach Gellar’s on my case about it.” She blinked back the tears brimming in her eyes, amazed that she had any more to shed. “I want to tell Mother and Daddy about Lisa and me, but I can’t. You know I can’t. They’ll never ever understand. They’ll send me away to get reprogrammed or something.” She smacked the armrest of the couch, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
“You’ll be eighteen in a few months. Tell them then.”
“I can’t,” Sam spat. “They’re so into their high-society image—”
“Samantha Rose, don’t be disrespectful. They’re your parents.”
“I know, but you’re the one who raised me, Helene.”
Helene looked away from Sam as if she couldn’t deny the fact that, whenever Sam was hurting, she’d run to her nanny. If Sam needed advice, she didn’t go to her parents, she went directly to Helene.
“If I told them about Lisa and me,” Sam continued, “they’d never let me see her again. They’re never going to let me be who I am.” Sam rubbed her temple at the start of a tension headache. “They want the perfect blond-haired blue-eyed Junior League debutante they can parade out for people. They don’t want a dyke for a daughter.”
Helene inhaled sharply, but didn’t respond to Sam’s harsh words. Instead, she pointed to Sam rubbing her temple. “Migraine?”
“No, thank God. Just lack of sleep.” Sam stood up. “Listen, I have to get ready to go to Lisa’s. Who knows how long they’ll let me keep going to Clarksonville.” She heard the resigned tone in her own voice.
Helene stood up and pulled Sam into a quick hug. She walked toward the door. “Promise me you won’t play Schindler’s List anymore today, especially because you were about to play Chaconne or Vocalise next. Am I right?”
Sam nodded. She never could hide anything from her nanny. “I thought you liked Rachmaninov.”
“I do, but you need to pick cheerier songs. Don’t wallow.”
“Oh, and you don’t wallow?” Sam playfully accused. “I heard Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata coming out of your fingers on that piano downstairs the other day. Or how about Chopin? Which prélude is it you don’t wallow in?” Sam raised both eyebrows in an accusing, but playful expression.
“Touché,” Helene admitted. “Prélude Number Four.”
“Hey, let’s play Vocalise for Mother’s next luncheon. Accompany me on piano.”
Helene didn’t smile. “You know your mother doesn’t want me to play when the ladies are here. I’m too busy serving tea or helping Mrs. Tardelli in the kitchen.” Helene reached up and cupped Sam’s face in a nurturing gesture. “You’re a good girl.”
As Helene turned to leave, Sam said, “Don’t forget, I’m having dinner at Lisa’s bio-dad’s house tonight, so I’ll be home late.”
A frown flickered across Helene’s face. It was gone so quickly that Sam wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it. “That’ll be nice. Say hello to Lisa for me.”
“I will. Her aunts are visiting from Massachusetts.”
“Sounds like a family reunion. Drive carefully, okay?”
“I always do.”
Sam listened as Helene’s soft footsteps faded away on the carpeted hallway outside her suite. She locked up her violin and, on her way to the bathroom, paused to look out the rain splattered windows in her bedroom. Hopefully Helene’s weather prediction was right and it would be a sunny day for the pool party. She sighed and threw her blond hair into a ponytail and wondered if she and Lisa would be able to find alone time. It was hard with Lisa’s three younger siblings underfoot. Maybe they could bribe nine-year-old Lynnie to watch the kids while they snuck into Lisa’s bedroom for a few minutes.
Satisfied with her hair, she laughed at her black eye. The kids were going to love it. Her mother had a fit the day she came home with it. Sam let her parents think she’d gotten hurt in the softball game. Actually, that part was kind of true, but it wasn’t a softball that hit her. Sam’s mother wanted to yank her off the team immediately, but her father talked her out of it. Her mother placed a panicked call to Dr. Boyle to make sure. Sam laughed at the memory. What in the world did a psychiatrist know about black eyes?
Sam wondered if she should make an appointment with him to talk over her troubles. “Now that I have friends, why do things feel more hopeless than ever?” she said to her reflection as if talking to her psychiatrist directly.
Dr. Boyle would say it was because the stakes were higher; that she had more to lose. It might make sense to have an unbiased listener hear her problems. But how in the world could she tell him that she was gay? That the perfect princess was a dyke?
Dr. Boyle would probably say it was a phase. He’d say Sam was confused, and she’d grow out of the crush she had on her friend Lisa. Was that all it was? A crush? Sam shook her head. Hell no. She’d had crushes on girls her entire life. What she felt for Lisa was so much more than that.
“Screw Dr. Boyle.” Sam shoved her car keys and wallet in her pockets and headed out her bedroom door. Psychiatrists don’t know everything! Who was she kidding, anyway? Dr. Boyle would tell her parents she was gay. And that, above all else, was the thing to be avoided.
Sam yanked the box of books she’d collected for Lisa’s brother and sisters off her desk and stomped out of her suite, mad at herself for thinking Dr. Boyle could help her. Her parents paid him to keep perfect Samantha Rose perfect.
Chapter Seven
The Best Sound I've Ever Heard
AFTER WHAT SEEMED like two hours instead of forty five minutes, Sam pulled the Sebring into Lisa’s driveway. Maybe the trip felt longer because of the rain. Her dull headache hadn’t helped, either. At least when she was at Lisa’s she didn’t have to be in the closet or be rich debutante Samantha Rose Payton. At Lisa’s she could be herself.
With a growing smile, she popped the trunk and pulled out the box of books she’d brought for the kids. She dashed between rain drops to the front landing and rang the bell. When she heard the door open, she lifted the box to cover her face.
“I know it’s you, Sam,” Lynnie said with a laugh.
Sam lowered the box. “Wow. I can’t fool anybody in this Brown household anymore.”
Lynnie smiled and opened the screen door wide enough for Sam and the box to squeeze by. Lynnie, at age nine, was the closest to Lisa’s age, but seven years younger.
“Samtha!” A mop-haired blur raced toward her. Sam had just enough time to set the box on the floor and brace for impact from Lisa’s three-year-old sister Bridget.
Bridget slammed into Sam forcing her to take a step back. “Weesa said you were coming.”
Sam reached down and picked her up. “I wouldn’t miss a visit with my best girls and my best guy for anything in the world.” Sam smiled at Lisa’s six-year-old brother Lawrence Jr. “How’re you today, buddy?”
“Fine,” Lawrence Jr. said shyly. He reached up and grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt since both of her hands were occupied holding Bridget.
“Excellent. Now where’s my—” Sam was about to say, “other best girl,” but then Lisa stepped out from the back room. Sam’s knees went weak the way they always did when she first saw Lisa. She had to put Bridget down when the muscles in her whole body turned to jelly. Lisa’s siblings blathered on to Sam about oatmeal with raisins that looked like dead flies, but she heard little of it. Her whole being was focused on Lisa in her tight shorts and tanned legs, her shapely shirt and her long black braid. Li
sa smiled. Sam’s eyes locked on to Lisa’s pouting lips and red cheeks. Lisa must have been doing something physical because her face was flushed.
Sam swallowed around the lump growing in her throat. “Hi.”
Lisa’s smile broadened. “Hi.” She gestured at the box of books on the floor. “Books?”
Sam nodded.
“For the three musketeers?”
Sam nodded again.
“Hey, you guys?” Lisa said to her brother and sisters. “Sam brought you some books. Pull them out while she and I make lunch.”
They cheered and flew at the box. Even Lynnie, usually reserved, wasn’t shy around Sam anymore. Sam followed Lisa’s beckoning finger into the kitchen. The Brown family kitchen didn’t have a door on it, but if they snuck off to the side near the sink, they couldn’t be seen from the living room. Lynnie knew about them and was a willing accomplice keeping Bridget and Lawrence Jr. occupied to give Sam and Lisa a few minutes alone together.
Lisa leaned back against the sink and opened her arms wide. Sam flew into them in much the same way Bridget had flown at her. Sam snuggled under Lisa’s chin. Lisa was so tall, and yet their fit was perfect. Sam wanted to stay locked in the embrace forever, but then again what was she thinking? Lisa’s lips waited to be kissed.
“I couldn’t wait for you to get here,” Lisa whispered.
Sam picked her head up and looked into Lisa’s deep brown eyes, the eyes that weakened her to the core every time. She tilted her head back and their lips met. A surge of desire flashed through her. Lisa’s lips never failed to turn up the volume on Sam’s yearning. Lisa put her hand on the back of Sam’s head and pulled her impossibly closer. When Lisa moaned, Sam knew they would be in trouble if they didn’t slow down. The kids were in the next room.
“Bridget, no! Come back here,” Lynnie yelled.
Sam bolted away from Lisa as the three year old ran into the kitchen and grabbed Sam’s hand.
Lynnie hesitated at the threshold. “I’m sorry. She got away from me.”
Lisa nodded. “It’s okay, Lynnie.”
Bridget pulled Sam into the living room.
“That’s okay,” Lisa called sarcastically. “Lynnie and I will make lunch.”
“Sorry,” Sam called back over her shoulder as the three-year-old led her through the living room to the makeshift salon Lisa’s mother used to cut and style hair. During the summers, Lisa’s mother worked at a salon in Clarksonville while Lisa stayed home to look after the kids. Lisa’s father, her step-father to be more accurate, was a roofer by trade, and a general handyman during the winter months when roofing was out of season.
The Brown Family house was small, so small that Lisa shared one of the three bedrooms with Bridget, and Lynnie shared a room with her six-year-old brother Lawrence Jr.
“What’s up Bridget?” Sam sat down in one of the salon chairs. “Are you going to give me a haircut?” Sam kicked herself for even suggesting it, because Bridget’s eyes grew wide.
“Wet’s do your hair wike mine. We can be twins.”
Sam raised her eyebrows. Bridget’s hair was a mop of dark brown curls, but her mother, or more likely Lisa, had managed to pull the hair into two tiny pigtails. Sam knew there was no refusing the threeyear-old.
“Go for it, Sweetpea.” Sam took the hair band out of her hair. “Go get a clean brush from the drawer.” Bridget ran to the drawer, and Sam got the step stool Bridget used to reach her “customers.” Sam’s hair had often been used as amusement for the kids, but she didn’t mind since it had so far only involved washing or styling it in weird ways.
Several minutes later, Sam and Bridget emerged from the back salon. Lisa, Lynnie, and Lawrence Jr. cracked up when they saw the new style.
“What?” Sam put a hand to her hair. “What’s wrong with four pigtails?”
Lisa grimaced. “I especially like the one sticking straight up on top of your head.”
“Bridget’s special touch. Right, Sweetpea?”
Bridget giggled as Sam grabbed the three-year-old and twirled her around a few times. She plopped her into her booster seat at the kitchen table where chicken and stars soup and peanut butter sandwiches were laid out for lunch.
“I think you should keep those in when we go to William and Evelyn’s later,” Lisa said.
“I think that would be no.”
After lunch they cleaned up the dishes, and then settled in the living room to watch “Spy Kids 3,” a movie that Sam had brought over. Sam let Lisa think she’d already had the movie and was letting them borrow it, but truth be told, she’d bought it on the way over.
Sam’s heart swelled as Bridget climbed into her lap when the movie started. Lisa flashed Sam one of her melting smiles, and all was right with the world. Sam snuggled into the cushions and let her head fall back against the high-backed couch. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks. She fought to keep her eyes open but knew it was futile. The filling lunch, the rainy day, Bridget in her lap, and Lisa nearby sent her to a warm and happy place. A place she hadn’t been in a while. She drifted off to sleep, not caring if she got teased about it later.
“I’m home,” a voice announced loudly. The front screen door banged shut.
Sam woke up and struggled to open her eyes. She looked toward the television screen only to find that it had been turned off. Bridget was nowhere to be seen, either. She sat up to see a grinning Lisa on the other side of the couch.
Sam stretched her arms up. “Mmm, did I fall asleep?”
Lisa nodded. “For three hours.”
Sam’s eyes grew wide. “Three?” She brushed several Lego blocks off her lap that had somehow ended up there, probably from Bridget. She shook her head to loosen up the cobwebs of her fuzzy mind. Something felt weird, but as she reached up to feel her head, she remembered Bridget’s hair makeover and the unglamorous pigtails sticking out all over her head.
“Samantha Rose,” Lisa’s mother said, “that is such a special look.” She chuckled and put her bag down by the front door. “The hair is a Bridget creation, I presume?”
Sam nodded and then yawned.
“Oh, my. Are we keeping you up?”
“Apparently.” Sam felt her cheeks get warm. She was a little embarrassed about letting her guard down so completely.
“And we have the pictures to prove it.” Lisa laughed and held up her father’s digital camera.
“Oh, no,” Sam cried and felt her pigtails again. By this time Lisa’s brother and sisters had come back into the living room. “C’mon, let me see.”
Lisa slid next to Sam on the couch, and everyone gathered around them. Lisa turned on the camera and selected view mode. The first picture that came up was of Sam and Bridget. Both of their mouths had fallen open in sleep.
“Oh, my God,” Sam said. “My black eye completes the picture. Yeesh.” She looked up at Lisa. “Do not, I repeat, do not post these on the internet.”
Lisa grinned mischievously. “Too late.”
Sam knew her face must have shown the horror she felt. Samantha Rose would never let herself be seen that way.
“Sam, Sam, Sam,” Lisa said quickly and put a hand on her arm. “I’m kidding, but Lynnie printed out a copy for your personal collection.”
Lynnie stepped forward and handed Sam a four-by-six inch copy of the photograph. She must have used the printer and paper that Sam had “loaned” their father.
“Thanks, Lynnie,” Sam said. A warm feeling spread across her chest. She wanted to bottle it to keep forever.
“Ahh, but there are more pictures.” Lisa scrolled to the next one.
Sam burst out laughing when she saw her body and head covered with Lego blocks. “How did I not wake up?”
“Lawrence Jr. was quiet for once.”
Sam faked a gasp. “Lawrence Jr., you did this to me? You’re the Lego maniac?”
His grin was so big it almost split his face.
“Ooh, I’ll get even with you, buddy. Watch out.” Sam wagged a finger at him.
>
“You were sleeping so hard,” Lisa continued, “I think the Clarksonville marching band could have come through here, and you wouldn’t have woken up.”
Lisa’s mother patted Sam gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad you feel comfortable here with this motley crew.”
Sam’s heart swelled again. This was a family. This was what family life should be, with silly brothers and sisters you could goof around with and caring parents who didn’t mind if you weren’t always perfect.
Lisa scrolled through the rest of the pictures and when she came to the last, Sam gasped. “What?” She touched above her lip. “You guys drew a mustache on me?”
The entire family laughed as Sam bolted off the couch, Lego blocks flying, and ran to the bathroom. Sam took one look at her ridiculous image in the mirror and giggled. She laughed so hard that she doubled over. The audience of Brown children giggling in the bathroom doorway made her laugh even harder.
When Sam finally caught her breath, she said. “You guys suck. I can’t believe you did this to me.” She reached out and grabbed for Bridget, but Bridget squealed and jumped out of Sam’s grasp.
Lisa blocked the doorway as if protecting her younger siblings now hiding behind her. “You almost woke up when Lynnie drew it on you.”
Sam gasped. “Lynnie did this to me?” She looked behind Lisa at the now-grinning Lynnie. “Sweet, shy, innocent Lynnie?” She lunged toward Lisa, who, at the last minute, moved to the side and let Sam through.
Lynnie squealed as she bolted away. Sam caught her easily and playfully tackled her in the living room. A tickle fest ensued, which naturally attracted Lawrence Jr. and Bridget who leaped on top of Sam.
After several minutes, Lisa’s mother cleared her throat. “Uh, you two had better get going. Aren’t you due at William’s in an hour?”
Sam sat up and caught her breath. “Yeah, I’d better do something about,” she gestured to her face and hair, “my new makeover.” She bugged out her eyes, and Lisa’s mother laughed.
“C’mon,” Lisa held out a hand to help her up. “You can use the bathroom first.”
Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series Page 6