A Lonely Sky

by Linda Schmalz

  Spencer looked up in surprise. “When in God’s name did you have time to draw this up?”

  “I’ve always had one. I modify it from time to time, as the mood strikes. I asked my lawyer to bring a copy to the hospital.” Sam took a breath. “I provide well for Barnabas so his care should not be a burden to anyone.”

  “Why are you giving a copy to me?”

  “You’ll understand after you read it. There are things that must be executed at precise times after I’m gone.”

  Spencer hated thinking of life without Sam. “I’ll keep it safe.”

  “Ensure it is enacted on and no one strays from my intentions.” Sam coughed. “And read it only after my death. Promise me that. I’ll leave it up to you if you think that Deirdre should know the contents.”

  Spencer stared at the sealed envelope. “Now I’m bloody curious.”

  “And I’m bloody tired, again.” He reclined on his pillows. “But I’ve done all I need to. I trust, Spencer, that you do as I ask?”

  Spencer rose. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Sam extended his hand. “You’re a good man.”

  “You are too, Sam.”

  “And you’re a bloody hell of a liar.” Sam spoke, his voice raspy and tired. “Now leave me before you tire me out completely and I die right here. Imagine having to tell Deirdre you killed me.” Sam closed his eyes and waved him away.

  Spencer took a moment more to stay at Sam’s side and then slowly walked to the door.

  “Take good care of her,” he heard Sam say.

  Spencer turned and smiled. “I will, Sam. I will.”

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  With help from his public relations agent in London, Julia, and the Willowbrook staff in the United States, Sam soon found himself settled in a room at the small, Illinois nursing home. As promised, he registered under a false persona. Even though the staff knew Sam’s true identity, they did their best to hide it from the nursing home residents and the outside world. The staff addressed him as “Mr. Wilmington” or “Bryce”. His caregivers humored him by supplying him with glasses, fake mustaches and silly hairpieces.

  His new identity and props were the only things he laughed about these days. He couldn’t deny his illness’s rapid progression. Each day brought more difficulty breathing, increased weakness, and now, abdominal pain. His appetite waned and his weight dropped further. Pain medications helped, but caused him to tire easily, so he bypassed these in favor of being alert for Julia’s visits. He took great efforts not to let on to his suffering while she was with him. He made sure he was out of bed, dressed and groomed.

  Julia brought relief as no drug could. She sat by his side as they looked through her old pictures of their time in London and reminisced about their tour of Westminster, their picnics at the lake with the beautiful swans, and how they fell in love. Sam told of his fight to keep McTeel Manor, how Barnabas still lived there, and what life was like as a famous actor. Julia talked about motherhood, her children and her job at the nursing home. She delighted explaining how she started a drama club at her daughter’s school and helped with the plays, costuming, and set construction. She told Sam that Kim had six children now, but had vowed to stop at four with the birth of twins. She spoke of her father, Bert, and how he remarried a lovely lady and finally seemed happy again. They spoke of books they read, movies they loved and places they’d been. Perhaps subconsciously, perhaps purposely, they left Deirdre and John out of most conversations.

  Julia brought Sam pictures of Elizabeth. He studied them closely, his heart bursting with pride for their lovely daughter. Sam desperately wished to meet her. To his dismay, however, Julia held firm that this could never be. She incited Elizabeth’s young age of only sixteen and how unfair it would be to suddenly spring on the girl that she had a different father, and then have her watch him die. Julia also added, that John would never allow it. He barely tolerated Sam being near and Sam needed to compromise and leave Elizabeth as John’s. Sam understood Julia’s reasoning but wished with all his heart that things could be different. As her true father, he wanted to do right for Elizabeth.

  With these thoughts in mind, Sam sat on his bed and composed a letter. He needed to put order into his life before it ended.

  Sandy, his private nurse entered the room and provided him with the envelope and stamp he requested earlier.

  “Thank you.” Sam reached for the supplies. “Can you wait a moment while I post this?”

  “Of course.” Sandy used the time to straighten his bed covers.

  “There.” He handed her the envelope.

  The nurse took it, and glanced at the address. “For Mr. Riley? Julia’s husband?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure you want me to mail this?” Sandy raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you rather save the stamp and have Julia just give it to John?”

  Sam winked at the stout nurse. “I can afford the postage. And no, please mail it. It’s a private matter. I would also appreciate you not mentioning this to Julia.”

  “Fine, but that request will cost you another autograph, Mr. Wilmington,” Sandy teased.

  “I think you’re selling my autographs on e-bay and saving for retirement.”

  Sandy smiled and put the letter in her uniform pocket. “I wouldn’t do that. I’ll mail this for you.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sam rose, slowly walked to his chair by the window and sat. He looked out the window, spotting two morning doves sitting side by side on the branch of a birch tree.

  “Well, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “All is set. If John bides by my requests, I’ll die a somewhat happy man.”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  John stood outside Room 41 and debated whether or not to enter. In his hand he held the letter Sam sent. He gripped it so tight that wrinkle marks now decorated the paper. John possessed no desire to meet Sam Lyons, famous actor or not. To him, Sam was only a man his wife loved in a way she’d never love him. Still, John needed to put an end to the sleepless nights this letter caused him. Sam’s letter asked John to come meet with him, privately, and without Julia’s knowledge. At first, John resisted. But curiosity as to what Sam could possibly want ate at him like a termite gnawing malleable wood. The letter sounded urgent, but John let three weeks pass before he finally acquiesced. The morning Julia announced she’d help with a Christmas pageant at Elizabeth's school, John took the opportunity to visit Sam.

  He couldn’t stand outside the door forever. He took a deep breath, tucked in his already perfectly tucked shirt and knocked firmly on the half closed door. A man’s voice, deep but weak, asked him to enter.

  John walked in and stopped short. His expectation to find the famous movie star in a smoking jacket, drinking juice from a martini glass and reading scripts vanished. Sam was a very sick man, gaunt and pale.

  “You must be John.” Sam pushed a button on a remote control and the top of his bed lifted him to a sitting position. “Ah. There. I can see you better now.”

  John took a few steps into the room, still shocked at how aged Sam looked at only, what? Forty-six or so? John knew Sam to be about ten years older than Julia. He looked about seventy.

  “Forgive me if I don’t get up,” Sam said, with a half-smile. “There’s a chair over there, if you’d like to sit.”

  John shook off his shock enough to speak. “No, that’s okay. I’m not staying long.”

  “Ah.” Sam studied him. “Well, then, I’ll get right to it. Thank you for coming. Had you come sooner, I’d have been in a bit better health. Seems I’ve taken a turn for the worse rather sooner than expected.” He paused and drew in a wet and rattled breath. When he spoke, his voice was weak. “I have something for you.”

  Sam slowly reached over to his nightstand and retrieved another letter. He held it out. “This is for you.”

  John felt the room grow warm. “Another letter? What is this? Can’t you just tell me whatever the hell it is you need to say?” He shi
fted nervously. He hated nursing homes and hospitals, he hated sickness, he hated Sam, and he hated being here with all this bottled up anger threatening to explode.

  Sam waved the envelope at him. “It’s to read after I’m gone. Just take it.”

  John’s jaw clenched as he tried not to yell at this skeleton of a man. “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Please just take this. Don’t make me have to get up and give it to you. I ensure you, that would not be a pretty sight.” Sam laughed at himself. His hand shook. “Please.”

  John realized Sam was determined to hold that damn letter until either he took it or Sam collapsed under the strain. Begrudgingly he walked to the bed and took the letter. “What could you possibly say in this that you can’t just say to my face? Why did I have to come to get it? Couldn’t you just give it to Julia?”

  Sam closed his eyes halfway, as his speech slurred. “No. She knows nothing about it. Nor should she.”

  “Fine. But you could have mailed it, like the other one.”

  “Yes.” Sam took another minute before continuing. “But I owe you gratitude and wanted to tell you that in person.”

  John backed away. “You don’t owe me crap. I’m here. I took the letter. I really have to go.”

  “Thank you for raising Elizabeth. You’ve made Julia happy.”

  “Someone needed to.”

  Sam opened his tired eyes and looked out the window. “Touché.”

  “Is that it?” John wanted out. Out of the conversation, out of this room, and out from under this cloud of guilt that Sam was dying and he did not care.

  “Yes. The rest is in the letter.”

  “Fine.” John turned to exit, but stopped. “I have a question for you.”

  Sam turned his head John’s direction. “Whatever you want.”

  John stared him down. “How could you have loved Julia and hurt her like you did?”

  Sam’s words came slowly as his eyes started to close again. “I thought she married you and that Elizabeth was your baby.”

  “And I knew the baby was yours. And I still married her. That’s love, Sam. She was pregnant with your daughter and I married her anyhow. I didn’t give up on her.”

  Sam raised a weak hand as if to wave away John’s words. “I can’t defend what happened. It was a tragedy of mishaps. Just read the letter after I die, John. You’ll not have to wait long. Thank you for coming, but my medication is kicking in and I won’t be much for conversation in a minute or two.”

  John turned and left, only too happy to leave that room. Damn Sam. What the hell could he want now?

  As he walked to the parking lot, curiosity overcame him. He sat in his car, tore open the letter and read it through, several times. After the last painful read, John pounded his fist against the steering well.

  “Damn you, Sam Lyons! It will be a cold day in hell if I ever honor this last request!” He started up the car and headed towards home. Towards Julia. His Julia.

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Julia walked out of the cold Chicago weather and into Sam’s room. Although the January temperatures hovered just above zero, the sun shone brightly, the frozen snow glistened and the wind whipped viciously at delicate skin. She brought a bouquet of store-bought, multi-colored flowers to liven up his room. The clock read ten in the morning, yet Julia found Sam still in bed. An elderly Asian nurse whom Julia did not recognize stood by his bedside adjusting an IV tube.

  “Hello,” Julia said, as she stepped inside the room further. “I’m Julia Riley.”

  The nurse turned toward her. “Hello. I’ll be with you in a moment.” She turned back to Sam. “Bryce, you have a visitor.”

  Sam opened his eyes and attempted a smile. “Julia. Ah.” His voice sounded raspy and pained. Julia’s heart raced. Why was he still in bed so late in the morning? Who was this new nurse and why the new IV tube?

  The woman walked over to Julia. “I’m Sarah Wong, a Hospice nurse. I’m here to ensure Sam’s comfort and will work alongside his doctor to ensure his comfort level and other basic needs are met.”

  “Hospice?” Julia’s face fell, as did her heart. She whispered. “Already?”

  “I can hear you,” Sam said, with a forced laugh.

  Sarah addressed Julia. “Sam took a turn for the worse last night. His pain became intolerable and he can’t eat. He refused the feeding tube offered.”

  Sam slowly nodded his agreement.

  Sarah continued, glancing at the I.V. “That’s morphine which will provide pain relief as he needs it.” She looked back at Julia. “I’m sure you two would like to visit. May I take those beautiful flowers from you? I’ll go find a vase.”

  Numbed by the news, Julia absent-mindedly handed the flowers to the nurse. “Thank you.”

  “Do you have any questions for me at this time? I realize you’re listed as next of kin for Sam while he’s here?”

  Julia’s mind spun. She couldn’t formulate a question at that moment anymore than she could make Sam well. She shook her head. “No, no thank you.”

  “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  As Sarah left with the flowers, Julia walked to Sam’s bedside.

  “Hello, love,” he said.

  “Oh Sam.” Julia could not hide her shock. “What happened? Just yesterday you were sitting in that chair.”

  He took her hand. “I’m sicker than I let on. The cancer spread quickly and I’ve known it for some time. I’ve been fighting the pain, but I simply can’t anymore. Even for you.”

  Julia gazed into the beautiful hazel eyes she loved. Gone was the vibrant, happy determination she usually found there. His eyes now held sorrow and pain. “Has a doctor checked you? Maybe you’re just having a reaction to the medication-”

  “Stop.” He waved a thin hand in the air. “Time to face the music, my dear. I can’t eat or walk.”

  “Oh.” Julia fought back tears and kissed his hand.

  “I suppose it won’t be long.” Sam winced and Julia noticed he pushed a button on the remote hooked to the I.V. He held it up toward Julia. “This is rather lovely little device. My own morphine dispenser.”

  “What can I do, Sam?”

  “Love me.”

  “I do.”

  “I mean, after I’m gone.”

  She gave in to her tears.

  “No tears, Julia. Let’s not be sad for the remainder of our time together.”

  Julia forced a smile. “But you’re the actor here, not me. I can’t fake happiness when I see you like this.” She wiped her tears, but found it impossible to stop them.

  “Tell me what your life will be like when I’m gone, Julia. I need to focus on something other than this pain. I want to know that everything will be all right with you.”

  Julia sighed and looked out the window. “I don’t know. I’ve spent a lifetime hoping to be with you, somehow. Without hurting anyone else. I knew that was impossible, but still, I hoped.”

  “We’ll be together. Just not here.”

  Julia cried harder. “I have this hole in my heart that only you fill, Sam. How will it ever heal without you?”

  “You have a wonderful family to take care of. The show must go on, Julia.”

  She shook her head. “The show, as you say, always goes on for me. I’ve been afraid to ever stop pretending that what I have is enough and makes me happy. I’m afraid that if I stop moving for one moment, all the heartache will rush in, and I’ll breakdown. My show goes on, and I silently suffer through it.”

  Sam nodded, but then winced and turned his head away. After a moment he turned back. “And I’ve discovered a new sort of suffering.” He rested another moment. “Perhaps we should say goodbye, for today.”

  “No.”

  He patted her hand. “Don’t worry, love. I’m not going anywhere just yet. And no matter, our love is frozen in time. It’s out there. It won’t go away because I do. I’ll pass, and one day in the far future, so will you, but I think our love will remain somehow.” H
e seemed to drift away in thought.

  Julia stroked his cheek until his eyes met hers again. “Sam, what do you mean?”

  “I remember Westminster. The way we felt that summer and in the Abbey.” He turned as if talking to the window. “So many lost lives and love buried there. Kings, queens, poets, lovers. We felt that love there. Love doesn’t die. I think it remains for someone else to catch.” Sam’s voice faded in and out as his morphine took hold. But Julia understood the sentiment he tried to convey through his haze. She remembered their time at Westminster as well. It was there she first realized Sam might love her.

  He spoke as if far away. “I have been loved by you.”

  “And I, you.” Julia knew she should leave and let him rest, but she found it impossible to turn away. She stood for long minutes simply watching him. After a while she kissed him softly on the lips.

  She found Sarah in the hallway. The nurse carried a cut-glass vase containing the flowers Julia brought.

  “He’s sleeping.” Julia said.

  Sarah smiled gently. “Okay, thank you.” She placed a comforting hand on Julia’s arm. “I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

  Julia nodded. Words failed her, but Sarah understood.

  Chapter Sixty

  Sam died the following Tuesday morning. A while before, the phone rang at Julia’s house. Sarah informed her that Sam’s time drew near.

  John was already on his way to work, Tommy still asleep and Elizabeth busy in the kitchen packing her lunch. Numbed by the news, Julia automatically dressed and somehow phoned her neighbor who said she’d come over and make sure Tommy got on the bus.

  Julia arrived at Willowbrook by seven forty-five. She rushed to Sam’s side. His breathing came rapid and deep. At times he appeared to gasp. Julia startled and turned to Sarah.

  “He’s not in distress,” Sarah explained, placing a hand on Julia’s arm.

  Sam’s eyes remained closed. Classical music played softly from a CD player in the corner.