by Len Webster
“Like father, like son, Sammy,” Bruce chided.
Sam winced. His father was right. They were both weak. They both ran instead of overcoming their struggles. But Sam would never let Bruce near Josh. He’d never let Josh know what a horrible man Bruce Michaels was and how horrid the Michaels’ blood was.
“One day, I will make you pay for everything you’ve done,” Sam promised.
His father belted out an obnoxious laugh. “That day will never come. Not if you want to be the politician you’ve worked so hard to be.”
“Dad, are you ready?” Josh’s voice had Sam exhaling, trying to find his equilibrium.
I can never let Josh near him.
“Give your mother this cheque. I sold the beach house.” Bruce shoved the piece of paper into Sam’s chest. “Better get back to your boy. The longer you’re with me, the longer you expose yourself to your true self, Sammy.”
Sam grabbed the cheque and then watched his father leave the house. “Fucking asshole,” he muttered.
“Sammy,” his mother said the moment the front door closed.
Turning around, he took in the sight of Josh holding Sam’s mother’s hand. A smile came naturally to him. Sam approached his son and got on his knees.
“Josh, promise me that whatever you do, you will never speak to that man.” Sam strengthened his voice to ensure his seriousness.
Josh nodded. “I promise, Dad.”
“What did your mother and I teach you about strangers?” Sam asked.
His son rolled his eyes. “Strangers are dangers, and I am not allowed to go with them.”
Sam’s hand reached over and cupped the back of Josh’s head. Then he kissed the six-year-old’s forehead. “That’s right. Come on. Give Grandma a kiss before we leave.”
Sam’s mother picked up Josh with a smile. Even as his son aged, his mother continued to flawlessly lift him. Josh kissed his grandmother and covered her mouth like he always did.
“Love you, Grandma,” he said, not letting her have the last word.
But as usual, she moved Josh’s hand and whispered, “I love you more, my little love.”
And just the sight alone was enough for Sam to accept that no matter who he hurt, he had made the right choices in his life.
Choices that led to this moment.
To the boy in the safe arms of Sam’s mother.
My son.
It was almost five o’clock when Sam parked his Mercedes in Beth’s driveway. He cut the engine and shifted to see Josh asleep in the backseat. Sam remembered how much he loved a sleeping Josh. After he was born, Sam had stayed with Beth and experienced every sleepless night and dirty nappy. But what he had loved the most was holding Josh as he slept, feeling his stirs, his breaths, and heartbeats. They were the best moments.
The unforgettable moments that made everything before it worthwhile.
Sam took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a picture of his son as he slept, Transformer toy in his hand and everything. Satisfied with the photo, Sam unbuckled his belt, turned off the ignition, and exited the car. When he had silently closed the driver’s side door, Sam rounded the car until he was by Josh’s side. Slowly and gently, he opened the door and removed Josh’s belt.
“Are we home, Dad?” Josh mumbled, waking from his slumber.
Sam smiled at the way his son quickly searched for his toy and then the relieved expression on his face when he discovered it in his hands. “We sure are, bud. You want to walk to the door, or do you want me to piggyback you?”
“I can walk, but can I ask you something?”
Squatting, Sam set his hand on Josh’s knee to assure him that they were in a safe place to talk. “Of course. What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t eat my muesli bar. Mum won’t be happy. Can I leave it with you?” Josh asked, almost terrified.
“All right. But the next time your mum puts one in there, you eat it, okay?”
His son pouted. “Okay. I will.”
Sam squinted, sceptical of his son’s easy acceptance. “And no trading at lunch.”
“Fine.”
“That’s what I thought,” Sam said as he picked up Josh’s schoolbag and then held the door wider for his son to get out of the car.
When Josh was out, Sam closed the door. Like every time before, Josh clutched Sam’s hand as they walked up the path and towards the front door.
“Can you stay over tonight?”
Sam’s heart ached. Saying goodbye was the hardest part. If he could have Josh all the time, he would. It would be easier, but he couldn’t take him away from his mother. And with his job being so unpredictable, he couldn’t always be there for his son.
“I’d love to, but I have to work,” he explained as he glanced down to see Josh staring at his action figure.
“That’s okay.” Josh then tilted his head up at Sam and smiled.
“You’re the best,” Sam praised as they climbed the few steps to the front door. When they reached it, he opened the door and let Josh enter the double-story house first then he yelled out, “Beth!”
“Mum, I’m home,” Josh alerted as he kicked off his leather school shoes and quickly took off his bomber jacket. Then he flung it on the hallway table.
“I’m in the kitchen,” Beth called out.
“I’ll race you?” Sam challenged.
Josh nodded. “Ready?”
“Spaghetti!”
And with that, Josh raced through the house and beat Sam to the kitchen. Sam would never try to outrun his son because it was a thrill to watch the six-year-old smile in victory. So far, it was thirty-eight wins out of thirty-eight for Josh. Sam leant on the kitchen doorframe and faked his heavy breathing.
“So who won?” Beth asked from the stove.
Sam’s brow shot up. “Who do you think?”
Josh beamed, proud of his victory. “Someday, you’ll win, Dad. Maybe I’ll let you win next time.”
Sam chuckled as he approached the bench and set the schoolbag down on it. “Yeah, yeah. Maybe you’re just really fast.”
“Joshua, darling, go change into your pjs before dinner. You can wear your Iron Man set if you’d like.”
Their son’s eyes widened. “I never get to wear the Iron Man set to dinner. I’ll be back.” Josh rushed out of the kitchen and then a loud slam of a door echoed in the large house.
Sam turned his attention to the schoolbag and unzipped it. When he found the lunch box, he opened it to see the muesli bar inside. He chuckled as he pulled it out and showed it to Beth. “He promised he’d eat the next one.”
Beth shook her head. “He won’t. You fell for his puppy dog eyes.” Then she sighed and took the treat. Beth looked up at him with her bright green eyes. She’d fastened her curly auburn hair in a low ponytail. She was just shorter than he was at five-foot-nine. They were better friends and parents than they were lovers. They had met and gotten together just before his last year of high school. It didn’t last very long. Her pregnancy had torn through the comfort of their lives.
“My dad stopped by my mother’s house today,” Sam revealed.
Fear flashed in Beth’s eyes. “He didn’t …”
“He didn’t touch him, I promise. I would never let him hurt our son.”
Tears consumed her eyes. “Thank you. Do you want to stay for dinner?”
“I wish I could. I want to, but it’ll confuse him. I don’t want him to think we could get together and be some happy family. I love you, Beth, but not in that way. You’re my son’s mother.”
“I know. It would be nice if we did just once. I want to show him that even though we aren’t together, we’re still on good terms,” Beth explained.
Sam approached her and set his hands on her shoulders. “I know. Some other time.” Then he kissed her cheek. “You’re a wonderful mother, Beth
. You raised him right.”
Beth’s tears breached her eyelids and slid down her face. “I had the right kind of help.”
“I’d better go.”
“Okay. Josh, Dad’s leaving. Come say goodbye!” Beth walked over to the bin and disposed of the uneaten muesli bar.
In record speed, Josh returned to the kitchen in his Iron Man pjs that Sam had purchased for him a few weeks ago. Sam approached his son and bent his knees so that they were at eye level. He let his right hand rest against the top of Josh’s head and ruffled his hair.
“Be nice to your mother. If you want to FaceTime before bed, let me know. You can read me your comic,” Sam offered.
Josh wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck. “Sure. We’ll FaceTime later, but only if you wear your Hulk mask.”
Sam nodded and hugged his son. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I love you, kid.”
“I love you more, Dad.”
Nothing meant more in this world to Sam than those five words. Because someday, Josh might never mean it again.
chapter eleven
SAM
Seven years ago
“This is a surprise,” Meredith said as she approached him.
Sam had smiled before he realised he had. It was automatic. Every thought and move he’d made around her had been. He pushed off the locker that he’d leant on and shrugged his shoulder.
“I’m taking you home, remember?” he said just as Meredith spun the combination of her lock and pulled it open.
She peered past the wooden locker door, and her eyes met his. “I thought you were just giving me a ride to school.”
Sam grasped the wooden door and pushed it aside to ensure it didn’t block his view of her. He wanted to say that he wanted her perfume to stain the breathable air that would linger in his Jeep, but he didn’t, as much as it killed him.
“How else are you going to get home?”
She raised a brow and let out a light laugh. A sound he noted as remarkably beautiful. It was like experiencing the first touch of sunlight after a long winter. Unforgettable—and a feeling you were sure you wouldn’t feel for a long time to come.
And what was Meredith?
Meredith is my first touch of sunlight.
“Well …” Meredith said, interrupting his thoughts. She placed her books into her locker and took out her bag. “I could walk or take the bus.”
His heart dipped at the thought of not spending ten minutes locked in a car with her.
“I’d rather you didn’t,” had escaped from his mouth before he could stop himself.
Meredith slipped the bag over her shoulders and closed her locker. She had stared at the pattern of the laminate for a moment before she turned and faced him. Her lips curved upwards, and she took a deep breath. “Me, too. So I’d love a ride home.”
Another smile stretched across his lips. “Come on. Let’s go,” he said, and without a thought, he took her hand in his. The sheer jolt from their contact had him tensing and his breath disappearing. His heart thumped heavily against his chest and he could have sworn the dizzy sensation in his head was embraced and wanted. Instead of analysing just how wrong it was to have Meredith’s hand in his, Sam led her out of the building and towards the car park.
With each step they took, he memorised the feel of her fingers entwined with his. Memorised the way his heart beat because of her. And memorised the way breathing became easy around her. It was as if she was his inner peace. He wondered how much she’d affect him if more than handholding were in their future. But he knew it wasn’t. He never deserved Meredith, let alone her time or her affection.
Never Meredith.
The moment he spotted his black Jeep, disappointment consumed him. He wanted more time. More contact. He just wanted Meredith. After years of wanting her, he finally had her—as a friend. When they reached the passenger side, Sam reluctantly released her hand and opened the door for her.
Instead of getting into the Jeep, she spun around and faced him. Different emotions danced in her eyes. Curiosity was one of them. He saw it in the way she tilted her head up at him and met his stare.
“What?” he asked after several moments of silence.
Meredith’s eyes continued to search his until she finally said, “You’re a pretender.”
His forehead creased at her statement. “I’m a what?”
“You’re hiding so much behind this façade that you don’t even realise it all shows in your eyes.” Then Meredith took his right hand in hers. “I see your sadness, Sam.”
The way Meredith smiled wasn’t quite right—not quite complete—and neither were her eyes. All that she had said about him hiding behind a façade felt more like she was describing herself. It was as if people lied to themselves when they looked at her. They believed in the goodness of her; they mistook her smile for genuine, but it was far from it.
Meredith Driessen was a pretender.
He was so sure of it.
Instead of keeping the next words he’d breathed locked away as he had tried to do with his feelings towards her, Sam took her other hand and brought her arms to wrap around him. The startled expression on her face and her small gasp indicated that she was as surprised as he was over his actions.
Then Sam dug his hands into her hair and had whispered, “I see yours, Meredith,” before he kissed her forehead. “I see what you think you’ve hidden, and somehow, I found you in my loneliness, and I think I want to keep you.”
Meredith’s eyes washed over with unshed tears. “Then keep me. I’m yours, Sam.”
Guilt exploded in his chest. It ached. It tormented. It was completely unfair to her. The words he had just heard weren’t really his to have, but he had become selfish when it came to Meredith. Taking full advantage of his needy heart, Sam wrapped his arms around her shoulders and embraced her, loving the feeling of her and the rightness of having her.
“Keep those words, Meredith. Keep them for someone else. Keep them for someone more deserving,” he urged over the top of her head. “Keep them and never let me hear them again.”
Phil: Margot wants to know why you upset Meredith?
Sam: What do you mean?
Phil: Margot went over to Meredith’s to do homework and the-girl-you-said-you’d-never-want didn’t seem like herself.
Sam: I just dropped her home after school.
Phil: Well, something you said upset her.
Sam had squinted at his phone before he tapped his fingers on his wooden desk. It had been a few hours since he had started his essay on the rise and fall of the Australian Labor Party during the 80s and the 90s. After he had told Meredith to keep such committing and undeserving words to herself, they rode in silence.
When he pulled up to her house, Meredith politely thanked him for the ride and then entered her house. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted to confess that he would die to be hers, but he hadn’t. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel and when he saw his knuckles had whitened, he breathed out and drove home. That had been almost six hours ago. When he received Phil’s message, he’d played dumb. The moment he put distance between him and Meredith, he saw the hurt in those dull blues. Her sadness, he wanted to know. Her sadness, he wanted to heal. Her sadness, he wanted to take away and make his. Her sadness, he wanted to love.
Love.
He wanted to love Meredith Driessen with all the freedom he had believed he could have had when he was thirteen. Had circumstances been different, he’d have loved Meredith openly. He felt his love for her on the cusp of being cemented. He knew it the moment he saw her that it was a matter of timing and not of opportunity. But now, he had the opportunity, and it had the worst timing known to man. For Sam, he’d rather not have the opportunity at all. Then he wouldn’t know what it would feel like to fall in love with her. To know what her words, her smile, and her sad eyes did to him. To kno
w the unfairness of having her in his life. It was unfair. Completely and utterly unfair to him. To Meredith. To Beth. And to the baby that would soon enough be in all their lives.
The sound of his phone beeping had him blinking at it.
Beth: Sam, I’m not asking for help. I can do this on my own. I’m asking for your understanding. I betrayed your trust, and I get that, but we can’t continue to pretend this is going away. You don’t have to be in this baby’s life. The choice is yours.
Sam tilted his head back against the leather office chair. There were no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The baby would be in his life. No matter how it came to be, a baby was on its way. A different form of guilt entwined and then blurred with his guilt over Meredith. As if the universe had condemned him for the poor choices made by the people he loved. Choices that had resulted in the consummation of a baby. Choices that had led to the breakup of his parents’ marriage. Choices that had led to him almost drowning. Choices that had led him to promise himself that he would not fall in love with Meredith Driessen. And if he already had, then to stop falling in love with her further.
For Sam, he now had to make a choice. A choice he controlled. A choice that no one would understand but him. A choice influenced by no one but him. A choice he’d made and would never back down from.
Sam: I understand, Beth. And I want in. On three conditions.
His heart thumped and thumped. His body tensed, and then he fidgeted. His stomach flopped and twisted. His entire system became useless and unreliable. His future no longer became his own. Sam’s future now included Beth’s baby.
Beth: Tell me your conditions.
He took a breath. Then an even deeper and heavier exhale.
Sam: Three simple rules.
Beth: Shoot.
Sam: 1. You are to never let that kid near my father. 2. You never confess the truth.