by Blue Saffire
I knit my brows at the look in his eyes. He’s studying me as if seeing me for the first time. I turn away quickly, chiding myself for my foolish thoughts.
“Come on, Baby,” LaSalle rumbles. “Sammy is already in our bed. I think mommy would like it if you slept on her side.”
Jessica hops out of my arms and runs over to her father. She pauses for a moment and looks back for Megan. A torn look crosses her face. Her father picked up on her dilemma.
“We’ll bring your sister,” he offers, but when he steps forward I can see he is too drunk to carry the sleeping little girl.
“I’ll bring her,” I say and stand.
When I turn with Megan on my right side, holding her little body with my good arm, LaSalle has a perplexed look on his face. He pressed his lips and nods as I move forward. I wonder what he’s thinking, as I follow them down the hall.
LaSalle opens the door for us to walk in and I’m blown away by the feel of Ellen’s presence. I completely get Sammy’s need to be in here every night. Jess runs to the bed and climbs in next to her brother.
LaSalle turns to me and reaches for Megan. I lift a brow at him, but he gives me a pointed look, looking at my injured shoulder and pressing his lips. I’m watching him sway before me.
“Give me my baby, Tasha,” he growls low. “I can take care of my children.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Then act like it,” I snap in a whisper, handing Megan over.
LaSalle cradle his little girl to his chest. The hard glare he’s giving me says a million words. I think we have both just crossed a line. I don’t punk out though. I glare right back.
“They need you. They need to see you. I’m not their mother,” I hiss and feel like a bitch as soon as I do.
I see the hurt that fills his eyes. He stumbles back a little and sways. I reach for Megan once again, but LaSalle jerks back nearly falling over.
“You have no idea what I’m doing to keep you safe,” he snarls. “Don’t you ever try to judge me.”
“Forget about me. If you need to neglect these babies for me, then don’t worry about me. I don’t need you to protect me,” I’m just digging a deeper hole and I can see it with each word.
The hurt in his grey eyes is almost palpable. I feel like shit. I search for a better way to say what I mean. I understand that my safety is connected to so much more. LaSalle’s name and family’s name rest on us not fucking up this mess we’ve started with Misha.
I’m not ungrateful. Yes, I feel trapped, but I’m so grateful to LaSalle for stepping in to help. I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t appreciate that.
“Get out,” he hisses back at me.
“Sam, I—,”
“I said, get out,” he hisses again and Megan starts to stir.
I nod and turn. My heart breaks when I hear his sob as I reach the door. I think of turning back, but don’t even know what to say.
Great job, Mo.
chapter Eleven
Coping
Sam
Monique was right last night. I’ve been a fucking mess. Yes, I spend my nights with Misha to smooth things over, but that doesn’t explain why I haven’t been around during the day. Truth is, looking at my children makes me think of my wife.
It hurts so fucking much. I keep waiting to see her walking towards me with that long dark hair and those dark eyes, but it’s never going to happen. I was too late to save her and I will never hold her in my arms again.
Last night was just too much. I didn’t want to deal with the things that surfaced, during my drunken rant to Misha. Like I said, my words were all skirting the truth.
Coming home and overhearing Monique with my little girl caused me to look at the woman more closely. She is taking safe arbor in my home. Taking care of my children never came with that. Yet, daily she cares for all three of my little ones without complaint.
I didn’t hear her complaining last night. I heard her calling me out. Her words hit their mark. It was wrong of me to make it seem like I haven’t been there for my children because of her.
I was just raw, hearing my little girl express how much she misses her mother. Then hearing how Monique handled my baby girl. The gentleness she showed Jessica choked me up.
Then when something tore inside me when she said she didn’t need me. I don’t know why, then again, I do. It comes back to my wife not trusting me. Ellen isn’t here because she didn’t just trust me. She didn’t need me.
The kids woke early and I feed them breakfast, but my head was hammering and I needed to lie back down. Tasha didn’t show up for breakfast. I owe her an apology. I plan to give it to her. I just need my head to stop pounding and I need to stop staring at this box of letters lying beside me.
I can hear Monique in the hallway with my son. Sammy is humming, as she talks to him soothingly. I feel like shit, literally. Here I lay and she’s still doing my job.
“Okay, buddy, you want to hum. Let’s sing. You want to sing our song?” I hear Monique say musically.
“Okay,” I hear my son say softly and then he starts to sing. Monique joins in with him.
My name is Sammy. I’m a smart boy. I can count. You want to hear? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Ten, ten, I win. My name is Sammy. I’m a smart boy. I can spell my name. S…A…M…M…Y. Y, Y, oh my. I’m a big boy, so I don’t have to cry. I can use my words. I’m Sammy, I’m a smart boy, I’m a big boy.
I close my eyes and tears run down my cheeks. My son continues to sing happily as their voices begin to move from outside my door. I feel like a heartless coward.
My family is suffering and I’m so damn lost. I miss my wife and her words of wisdom. I need her to tell me what to do for our children. They’re hurting and falling apart. I know I have to pull my shit together.
I sit up in the bed, aching head and all. I pull the box of letters in front of me. With shaky hands, I lift the lid. I hold the instructions Ellen left in my hand, I read them over once more.
I eye the letter on top warily. That’s where I’m to start. I’ve put this off long enough. I need to know what Ellen was thinking. I need to know if she has told me what to do for my children.
Reaching into the box I take the letter out. I blow out a breath as I hold it in my hands. My tears fall as I take it out the envelope and unfold it, Ellen’s hand writing coming into view.
My love,
This is not easy. I know you’re angry and hurting. I know that you don’t understand what has happened. I don’t have all the answers myself. I just know my time has come to an end.
I have always loved you, Sam. I know you loved me as well. I thank you for eight years of a loving and beautiful marriage. There was never a moment I doubted your love for me.
I’ve seen this day coming for a very long time. On our third date, to be exact. Over time I come to accept all that has been my fate.
I need you to see that your destiny doesn’t start or stop with me. You have so much you will do in this life. There is so much passion within you. It’s meant to be shared with another. Your other half.
Don’t be stubborn, Sam. Love her. She’s right for you, for our family, your family. Don’t push her away. You will hurt so much less with her.
Whatever has you so angry, let it go and let her in. I can’t see what the source of your anger is, but I know it is not totally centered around losing me. Don’t let it cost you true love.
I have my reasons for hiding her from you for so long. I needed her to want our family, not just you. I needed to see with my own two eyes that my family was in the right hands.
You’re bull headed. You would have tried to find Sammy someone else to spare my feelings. I know you would have, but Sammy needed her, he still needs her. You need her now, Sam.
She will love you in a way I never could. She will give you something I never could. Allow her to. Don’t feel guilty, if anyone should feel guilty, it should be me.
I’ve always known you two belonged together
. Her heart beats for yours. She denies a part of herself because it isn’t whole without you. It is time, Sam. Be whole. Love the one who has had your heart.
I free you. I want you happy. Enjoy the surprises life has for you. All bad things come wrapped in goodness, if we look close enough.
This too will pass, my love and you will be stronger for it. Live, Sam. Live and love. You deserve it.
Love always,
Your Ellen
My brows are knit so tightly my head starts to throb anew. A sob rips from my throat. This is what she has left me? This is what my wife had to say?
I swipe my hand across the bed, knocking the box of letters to the floor in my renewed rage. This answers nothing for me. Did I not tell her she was the only one for me? Did I not show her?
I roar in anguish. She should have come to me. This is bullshit. This I cannot accept. My heart aches even more. My wife died thinking I wanted another woman over her.
I have two great regrets in my life. The day I failed to save my wife, and the night I listened to her tell me to help another gorgeous woman. That night in that club has haunted me and my marriage ever since.
I may have put Tasha out of my mind, but it seems Ellen never did. I don’t know what hurts more, knowing that a simple game haunted my marriage for eight years, or the fact that my wife died not knowing how much I loved her. Her letter says she did, but did she really, because if she did, she wouldn’t ask this of me. She would have trusted me.
“Why, Ellen, Why?” I roar in anger and anguish.
chapter Twelve
A Mother’s Plea
Monique
I hardly got any sleep. I spent the night packing my things. I don’t have much here. Just a few things Czar brought here for me. LaSalle had asked me to wait before I tried to go to get more stuff from my place or go out to shop.
I had every intention of leaving this morning, first thing, but those three little angels stopped me in my tracks. First, Megan clung to my leg like her life depended on it as she shared with me that her father made them breakfast. Then, Jessica came to ask me for a hug.
By the time, I finished holding Jessica as she wept into my shoulder, I was spent and broken down myself. I just wanted a nap and then I planned to call my brother to get me out of here.
That’s when I found Sammy standing outside his parents’ room, humming to himself and staring at the door. I didn’t think my heart could ache anymore, but that ripped a piece of my heart out. When his little grey eyes met mine, they looked tortured.
I couldn’t help but wonder what all goes on in his head. What does Sammy see? How much about all of it, all of this, does he understand? This has to be a lot for a two-year-old, even one as brilliant as Sammy.
As I sat on the floor to see if I could help him settle and then move away from the door, I could see the relief in his eyes. It made me think of the things Clive made for him. I made a mental note to see if he ever took them to the clinic or if I can get him to come by with them.
I’m officially exhausted and drained. LaSalle’s tortured wails have finally subsided. I took the children out in the back yard when I heard them start. Although, being outside muffled the sound, I could still hear his pain.
“Sam’s the strong, silent type,” Camille says in a shaky whisper. She arrived an hour ago. The stricken look on her face said it all. I’m not the only one shocked to hear LaSalle in such pain and anguish.
Not that we didn’t know he was in pain. I’ve just never heard a man howl in such pain, especially not a man like LaSalle. My heart has softened towards him again.
“I can’t imagine what this must be like for him,” I murmur into my lap. “I feel like such a bitch. He was drunk and we sort got into it last night.”
“Oh, Honey, don’t beat yourself up. I’m sure you didn’t mean for that to happen and Sam is going to go through a lot of changes and those close to him are going to feel them,” Camille gives me a mischievous smile. “I walked in on him cursing Bobby out in the office the other day. It was kind of hot.”
I narrow my eyes at her as my mouth drops open. “You’re straight crazy,” I shake my head, although the comment does break up some of the tension. “Speaking of crazy. Where’s your shadow. This is the first time I’ve seen you without the big Irish bear with you.”
Camille blushes and looks away. “We had a little argument this morning. I left him with the kids and came here to check on you guys. I’m sure he is ready to strangle me.
“His daughter has taken to my boys and they her. She gets into as much mischief as they do,” Camille shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“So, you guys are dating?” I poke. I have no idea why I’m being so nosey.
Camille sighs and shakes her head. “I have all the benefits of a husband without the sex. Four children, we live under the same roof. The man bosses me around. God, but I need the sex. If I run into him in the hall in his boxers one more time. I don’t think I can stay sane much longer,” Camille’s cheeks darken even more and she bites her lip, moaning.
I throw my head back and laugh. Oh God, did I need this laugh. Camille is crazy. If this were under different circumstances, I’d even call her a good friend.
However, I’m cautious of naming our relationship. Camille wants something from me, or at least, her friend wants something from me. Camille is here to make that happen. I’m just not getting on the crazy train with her.
“Monique,” I hear my name rasped heavily.
I look up to find LaSalle staring at me intensely. Not like last night, when he found me talking with Jessica. No, there is no adorations or appreciation in his eyes. I would think I was the scum on the bottom of his shoe from the look he has in his eyes.
I take him in fully. His hair is damp as if he has just come from the shower, his white t-shirt is clinging to his damp skin, revealing all the tight muscles beneath. He has on a pair of well worn jeans with rips in the thigh.
His feet are bare. He’s just standing there with control and menace rolling off of him, making a delicious sight. I take notice of the letters clinched tightly in his hand. My curiosity is instantly peaked.
I meet his cold stare again and shiver. “Yes,” I say breathlessly.
I watch as his jaw ticks and he shifts. His eyes narrow at me, giving me a death glare. “These are for you. Go to the private room. Guests are coming. I don’t know what you will find inside these letters, but I can’t have it jeopardizing my family,” LaSalle says, through a hard, husky voice.
I give a trembling nod and rise to my feet. I’m hurt. I know our tiff last night was sudden, but harsh. I just didn’t think it would cause this reaction. LaSalle has never been cold with me. Even last night, when he told me to get out, it seemed like a demand out of hurt, not anger or cruelty.
Now, I feel like an enemy as I draw closer to him. When he lifts the letters in his hand to hand them over, he looks over my head as his jaw works. I expect him to release the letters, as I wrap my hand around them, but he holds fast.
I look up at him, still not catching his eyes because they are cast above me. I open my mouth, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve just spent the last three hours listening to this same man weep. What do I say?
“Don’t,” he says firmly. “I apologize for last night. You were right.”
With that, he releases the letters and moves pass me. I turn and watch him move to his children that have been seating together in the sofa swing in the middle of the expansive yard. My heart swells when he lifts Sammy into a tight hug and climbs into the center of the swing between the girls.
LaSalle leans to kiss the top of each girls’ head and says something that makes them squeal with laughter. None of the hardness from moments ago, comes across his face. I look down at the ground and blink back tears.
I shake them off quickly. I need to know what’s in these letters and then I can get out of here. At this point, I’ll take my chances with Daddy. Hell, Misha is looking like a better optio
n after the look LaSalle just gave me.
I start for inside the house, before I notice I have company. I turn to see an antsy Camille staring at the letters in my hand. She is following me into the house.
“Those are from Ellen,” she licks her lips and nods at my hand.
I nod. “Yeah, I guess so,” I reply.
Camille wrings her hands. “Do you mind if I come with,” Camille asks hopefully.
I pause and look up at her. I see the plea in her eyes. I think about the agony I heard LaSalle in. He must have read something from Ellen. I nod at Camille, knowing I’m strong, but if Ellen’s words could wreck LaSalle in such a way I may need backup.
~B~
Sam
I watch Camille and Monique walk into the house. As I tell my children a silly story. Their giggles fill the air, soothing my soul.
It is now that I have my children in my arms that I realize how much I need them. Just their little voices are keeping my demons at bay. I inhale the top of Sammy’s hair as he squirms on my chest.
“Daddy, is Mo-mo leaving?” Megan asks sadly.
“No, Princess, why would you think that?” I ask with furrowed brows.
“We saw her with a bag,” Jessica replies.
My jaw tightens all over again. I know I shouldn’t be angry with Monique. Truth be told I’m not. I’m angry with the idea of Monique or at least, the idea my wife had.
I take a deep breath to calm myself. I’m raging inside about a number of things, but I want this time to spend with my children.
“No, Mo-mo is staying right here with us. We’re going to get her help with her shoulder and then maybe we’ll all go to Italy for a little bit,” I think out loud.
“Okay,” Megan nods. “She’s my best friend. I don’t want her to go too.”
I swallow hard, wrapping an arm around my little girl and pulling her into my side. Again, my anger raises. How could Ellen do this to our children?
A part of me wants to know what Ellen has to say to Monique, but something in my gut tells me it’s just going to piss me off more. I have enough on my plate with a deranged Russian on the way to see me in my home.