As we prepare to set the table for dinner in the mid-afternoon, everyone seems to be getting along quite well. More than once, I’ve even seen Matthew talking to Mark, usually when he’s speaking with Jessica about something, but it’s progress and I’ll take whatever I can get. Though nobody currently in the house is much of a sports fan, we’ve got the television set to a football game, the kids are off playing somewhere, and I’m struggling to keep busy to lessen the amount of time I spend sitting in a chair staring at Matthew. Not that being in another room will deter me much; whenever I walk into the living room, my eyes automatically seek him out and more often than not, I find him looking right back at me. The people around us are acting as a buffer, which I know is frustrating for him; whenever I head into the kitchen or another part of the house, he tries to sneak in behind me, probably hoping to have our talk early. Either a child or one of the adults always seems to interrupt us, though; I’m starting to wonder if he thinks I’m doing this on purpose. For the most part I’m not; I want us to have this conversation probably as much as he does, but part of me is nervous about being alone with him right now. I’ve never felt that way about Matthew and I really don’t like it.
Currently, I’m pulling out the dinner rolls from the oven while Claire and Bonnie set the table. Last I saw, Matthew was on the floor playing some game with Tyler and Abby, and joking around with Mark about something. I wonder if things will remain like this after today and if this is a sign that I can remain friends with Mark without Matthew getting insecure about it. I’m not holding my breath, though.
“Need any help?”
I jump, then cry out when my hand slips away from one of the potholders I’m using to remove the hot tray from the oven. Practically throwing the tray onto the stove, I reflexively shake my burned hand rapidly, then bring it to my mouth.
“Shit,” Matthew mutters, closing the distance between us and forcing my hand from my mouth. “Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Looking at my hand as he leads me to the sink to run it under cold water, I can see it’s already red and slightly blistered. “Matt, I’m fine,” I try to insist. “It’s just a burn.”’
He predictably ignores my objections and gingerly tends to my hand, looking concerned and apologetic. Mark and Claire both poke their heads in to see what I was yelling about, but Matthew dismisses them, even the doctor who suggests getting some burn cream for my hand before it gets too bad. When Claire delivers the aforementioned cream, Matthew shuts off the water and leads me over to the table. We sit down at the table, Matthew pulling his chair closer to me as he very carefully begins to apply the cream, his eyes intently focused on my injury. As the pain subsides, I’m not sure if it’s because of my close proximity to him or the cream, and I really don’t care.
When he finishes, he looks up at me and I know my eyes are rather glazed over as I examine him. He does the same with me and, eyes still locked on mine, brings my hand up to his lips, pressing them against my skin right beside the burn cream he just applied. “Better?” he whispers.
I nod. “Yes,” I whisper back. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” Reluctantly it seems, he lowers my hand and rests it on my knee, then takes a deep breath to say something, but Claire enters the room to tell us she’s ready to bring out the food and the moment is ruined. Matthew shoots his sister a withering glare and I chuckle, causing him to turn back and wink at me. “Okay, let’s eat…”
We’ve got two tables set up—one for the children, one for the adults—and once we’ve got the kids settled with their plates, the rest of us can start filling our own. It doesn’t come as a surprise to me when Matthew takes the seat between Bonnie and me. Mark and Jessica are across from us, while Danny and Claire sit next to them. Dinner is delicious, though my daughter seems to balk at the idea of several of the side dishes. In the end I stick with turkey, bread, and mashed potatoes, and I notice Matthew has kept his plate a little further away from me than normal, possibly to avoid me getting sick at the smell. It’s the little things like this that make me love him. He doesn’t need me to explain why I feel the way I do about certain things; he just knows and he doesn’t call any more attention to it than what I might share.
As we eat, life feels normal for a change and I’m managing to push aside all the drama to enjoy it. Outside the snow is falling harder and I wonder if Claire will insist the guests stay the night. She’s only got two guestrooms, the ones Tyler and I are occupying, though Tyler could bunk with his cousins. And if Matthew stayed, how awkward would it be for us to be in the same house, but not share a room?
I block out that thought and almost wish I hadn’t when Jessica makes a comment about Mark and me having lunch together the other day. Wincing slightly, I dart a sideways glance at Matthew beside me who is eating his dinner as though he’s never been less surprised to hear something in his life. I thought he might at least have a tensed jaw or have a glare directed at me and/or Mark, but he continues as though he was hearing something of absolutely no consequence to him. I don’t know if that means he doesn’t care that Mark and I are spending time together alone, or if he realizes it’s not the issue he’s made it out to be in the past. I choose to believe the latter myself.
After dinner, before the turkey coma hits, we get the majority of the mess cleaned up and Claire and I very carefully move our store-bought pies into regular pie dishes to cover the fact that we forgot to grab the ingredients to make homemade ones and by the time we got to the store yesterday, everything was picked over. Snickering to herself as she stuffs the containers into the garbage, Claire wipes off her hands, grabs plates and forks, instructs me to get the whipped cream, and we head back into the living room.
Once again, Tyler is in Matthew’s lap even though his cousins have gone upstairs to play. And once again, the only available seat is beside Matthew. I take the seat on the couch and he turns his head towards me, a huge smile on his face. I’m not sure if the smile is for me or the way Tyler is snuggled against his chest, or both, but I feel myself smiling back.
––––-o––––-
When it’s time for the kids to go to bed, I follow Claire and the kids, all of whom insist they’re not tired, upstairs, but stop when Matthew calls me. He’s lingering at the bottom of the stairs looking uncertain.
“Would you mind terribly if I tucked Tyler in?” he asks.
I smile. “Of course not,” I say softly, coming back down. “He likes your stories better anyway.”
Matthew grins. “Well, I do tell one hell of a story…”
Rolling my eyes at his chuckling, I return to the living room and sit with Jessica and Bonnie while Mark and Danny watch some science fiction show.
“You know, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while,” Jessica tells me.
“Oh?” I say in surprise. “Why’s that?”
She shrugs and reaches for her wine glass. “You were a bit of a legend at work,” she says. “I worked for Matt before he met you and the people there with me still remember the complete change in personality he went through when he met you. He’s never really been an overbearing boss, but he was obviously happier… Oh and the day your son was born…” Jessica grins. “I don’t think he knew whether to be happy or not. I mean, I’m sure he was happy, but under the circumstances, I think it was a little bittersweet for him. Anyway, he showed up the next day in time for lunch and he’d arranged for this huge five-star four course meal to be delivered for everyone, then gave us all a four-day weekend.”
I laugh as I imagine Matthew doing just that to celebrate his son’s unexpected birth.
“And since you’ve been back, he’s been in that mood again,” Jessica goes on. “The one he was in when he first met you. It’s made for a very pleasant work environment, so thanks for that.”
“You’re welcome,” I say wryly. I almost want to ask her what sort of mood Matthew’s been in lately, but I probably don’t want to know. And it’s probably something I should as
k Matthew himself. I pick a different subject. “Did Mark tell you he and I had lunch the other day?”
She nods. “And admittedly I wasn’t all that thrilled about it,” she admits, “but when he told me who you were, I wasn’t worried.”
“Why?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
“I’ve seen you with Matt a couple times,” she tells me quietly, leaning in a little. “And any woman who looks at her man like that isn’t interested in anyone else. It’s the same for him, that look. I think I’d do almost anything to get that look from Mark.”
We both glance over to the man himself and find him being teased by his aunt over his choice in television shows. Danny is defending their selection while Bonnie rolls her eyes at both of them. As though he knows he’s being watched, Mark looks over at us, his eyes resting briefly on me before turning to Jessica. And for the first time, I think I understand what people mean when they talk about the dopey looks Matthew and I exchange on a regular basis. It’s very cute. “I don’t think you have to wait too long for that,” I tell her.
She gives me a grateful smile. “What I was actually trying to say and probably ended up seeming like a stalker or something is that I don’t know what’s going on with you and Matt right now, though it’s obvious something isn’t right, I really hope it works out for both of you,” she says sincerely.
I look over her shoulder as Matthew himself returns to the living room and gives me that smile, the one Jessica was just talking about. “I really hope so too,” I reply.
––––-o––––-
Now that the activity in the house has died down considerably, I go in search of Samantha. This entire day has been an exercise in self-control—to keep myself from pressing Samantha against the nearest wall and kissing her to the point neither of us can think straight; to not beat the living shit out of Mark Reilly for merely having the audacity to be in the same vicinity as Samantha; to try and play happy family when my love life is in absolute shambles. It hasn’t escaped my notice that Samantha hasn’t allowed us to be alone together for more than a minute or so at a time and I have to admit, that hurts a little. I’ve also noticed that she seems to have spent most of today staring at me when she thinks I’m not looking. That takes off the painful edge slightly…
I glance into the kitchen, wondering if she’s already gone to bed despite agreeing to talk with me. But I see movement on the back deck and I smile, knowing I’ve found her. Grabbing my jacket, I head out into the cold night to see Samantha leaning against the deck railing on her arms. I watch her every move as I close the door behind me and see her body tense a little under her puffy coat. Without a word, I walk over and mirror her stance, both of us staring out into the backyard, keeping a few feet of space between us.
“How are you?” I ask quietly, looking out at the jungle gym.
When my eyes dart sideways, I see her shrug. “I’ve been worse,” she whispers. “You?”
“I wish I could say I’ve been worse as well, but I’ve been pretty horrible over the last few weeks,” I tell her honestly. “I miss you like crazy.”
She sighs. “I miss you too,” she says, her voice barely above a breath. “I hate that things are like this between us.”
Inwardly, I’m dancing; this is exactly what I wanted to hear. “So do I.” I turn to face her and she’s looking directly at me. “I want to fix this,” I say. “Desperately. I want to fight for you and I will do whatever it takes to win.” I try to figure out what that expression on her face means, but for once, I have no idea what she’s thinking. It surprises me how disconcerted I feel at that realization. “I know I haven’t done much to show you how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate you. I’m trying to work on that.”
“Matt, showing how much I mean to you isn’t the issue,” she says quietly. “I know you love me; I’ve never doubted that. The real issue between us is communication and trust. I’m just as guilty as you for everything we’re lacking, I admit that. But when it’s both of us not communicating or not trusting, it makes everything that much worse. I need to know when I tell you something—whether it’s life-threatening as the issues with Natalie, or every day things—you’re going to trust me and have my back. And I don’t know if it would have made a difference had you believed me about Natalie—Tyler might have still been taken—but at least I would have known that my words mattered to you.”
That hurts. And as much as I want to argue her points, to say her words matter to me above all else, I know I can’t argue. That day it took me almost until the moment I got word about Tyler to realize she was right, or at least that she is the one I should trust more than anybody else in my life.
“Can I ask you something?” she says suddenly and hesitantly. “And have you be absolutely honest with me no matter whether you think it might hurt me?”
I wonder if there is a possibility of words being more frightening than the ones she’s just spoken. “Of course,” I say quietly.
She waits for a few moments, getting her words in order, then takes a deep breath and turns to face me again. “Is any of this because of some sort of resentment towards me about leaving five years ago?”
And we’ve reached the crux of the problem, at least according to Dr. Morris. “Partly,” I say slowly, hating myself for everything that is about to come out of my mouth. “I realize how unfair that is to you, considering it was a mutual agreement between us, but lately I’ve had to face everything and figure out why I can’t seem to get past certain things.”
“You do know I wasn’t happy leaving, don’t you?” she whispers. “Those five years were miserable for me. I survived only because I had Tyler; if I hadn’t had him, I don’t know what shape I would be in right now. Leaving you affected me worse than losing my mother and that’s not an exaggeration. Somehow I got myself to the point that I could function again and fake my way through the day-to-day. I was with Tom, and I know that hurt you when you found out, but my other option was to go back to the farm, maybe get a waitressing job at Chet’s again. Given where you and I met, I couldn’t face that again. I told you before Tom took care of us; without him…” She shakes her head and shrugs. “I told you in that letter I wrote you how much it hurt that you never came after us. I still feel that way. I could tell you how upsetting it was for Claire to tell me about Natalie and all the others you dated while I was gone, but I have no right to be upset. We were both convinced that was it for us, and we had to do whatever we could to get on with our lives. I never stopped loving you, never stopped thinking about you, never stopped missing you, especially every time I looked at Tyler, and all I ever saw was you staring back at me.”
I take a deep breath. “I think what I resented most was that the tickets I paid for would have taken you and Ty to your brother. Then Leo comes home and tells me you traded them in for tickets to Omaha. It took me a while to figure out what could possibly take you there, and when I did figure it out…” I have a flashback to that reaction and all the horrible thoughts I had about Samantha. “Let’s just say I wasn’t convinced the two of you were merely friends while we were married.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and I know she’s figured out what I thought at the time. “I suppose I could see that,” she says slowly. “It certainly wasn’t the case and I had intended to stay with Tom only long enough to get myself in order, then I was going to figure out something else.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that while we started out discussing us, we’re now discussing Tom fucking Saunders. Will I ever get that prick out of my life? “When I saw you and Tyler with Tom, I couldn’t ever remember feeling so jealous in my life. I never stopped considering you and Tyler to be my family, and I had to watch another man fulfilling my role. I watched my son interacting with another man as though Tom was his father, not me. And I saw the look in Tom’s eyes when he played with Tyler or spent time with you. I wanted to stake my claim for the both of you, but I had no right to do so; we were divorced. You had a new life and it didn’t incl
ude me. I intended to send all of you back to Omaha once the danger passed and if that was to be the last time I saw you, I had to make the most of that. The day I overheard your conversation with your brother about how once the situation was over, you would be going home and never see me again, I’ve never felt more hurt. I had to distance myself from you or I probably wouldn’t have made it out in one piece. But with you, I can’t keep my distance. I’ve tried. I have an inherent need to be near you, even if you’re beyond furious with me. It’s always been that way for me, Samantha. My life isn’t worth anything without you.”
Behind us, the sliding glass door opens and we both glance over to see Claire poke her head out. “Hey, Danny and I are headed to bed for the night,” she tells us, her eyes darting to me very briefly before resting on Samantha. “You two going to be okay?”
I look over at Samantha who is looking back with an unreadable expression, then she turns to Claire again. “Yeah, we’re fine,” she says quietly. “Sleep well.”
Claire shoots me what I think might be a warning glance before retreating inside again. I roll my eyes and turn to look out over the backyard again. Samantha and I stand together quietly for several moments until the lights are out in the house and we hear the faint click of Claire’s bedroom door closing. “Do you want to go inside?” I ask quietly. “Where it’s warm…”
Samantha shoots me a ghost of a smile. “Wimp,” she mutters teasingly, bumping into my shoulder as she heads inside. “Can’t even handle a little bit of cold.”
I chuckle, heading for the fridge for the pumpkin pie and raise a questioning glance at Sam. She nods and goes about getting us plates and forks. With the pie and can of whipped cream in hand, I follow Samantha into the living room where Claire or Danny was nice enough to start a fire for us. For a moment or two, we eat our pie in silence and it hits me that for the first time in weeks, I’m completely content and at ease, and I know it’s all because of the woman sitting beside me.
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