She heard him sigh. “She has a little boy. His name is Daniel and he’s seven. You’d like him if you met him, Sam, really.”
She watched the bright red droplets beading on her raw flesh, but she felt dead inside. “I have to go now.” She tried to make her voice sound light, but it came out forced, as if she were being strangled.
“Honey, don’t. Don’t go yet. I love you.”
Samantha hung up the receiver slowly. Her throat clutched as hot bitter tears threatened to escape. She squeezed her eyes shut. No, I’m not going to cry over you anymore, Daddy. She had put off calling him to delay the truth. Denying his betrayal. But now she could no longer pretend. A new woman and a young one at that. And it wasn’t just a fling.
Scalding hatred snaked through her veins. Well, isn’t that nice. Finally, a little boy. The son you’ve always wanted, Daddy, the son Momma couldn’t give you. All those years calling Veronica and me by our diminutive names. “Love you, Sam, love you, Ronnie. You aren’t the sons I longed for, but by God, I’m naming you like boys.”
And now he had a little Daniel to love at last, and to top it off, the boy’s youthful mother. Wasn’t that ever…so…precious.
It was Sunday, so Darlene and Veronica were both off work. After pulling herself together in the bathroom and putting fresh Band-Aids on her knee, Samantha joined her mother in the living room.
Darlene was watching a rerun of Murder, She Wrote and doing what she usually did on her days off: tossing down another bottle of wine. Sinking down onto the couch beside her mother, Samantha stared at Angela Lansbury with unseeing eyes.
“How did it go?” her mother asked.
“I hate his guts.”
“What? Because of the girlfriend?”
Samantha grunted, afraid at first to look her mother in the eye. “Did you know about the boy?”
“No. There’s a boy?”
Samantha nodded. She repeated what her father had said while she stared at the television, yet couldn’t stop herself from looking up to catch the flicker of pain on Darlene’s face. But she didn’t respond. A long silence stretched between them as they both pretended to watch the rest of the program.
When the show ended, Darlene leaned forward, refilling her glass from the half-empty bottle. “Ronnie is sleeping in awfully late today,” she said.
Samantha thought about last night and the confrontation she’d had with her sister when she came home late. Their mother had gone out, so she was clueless to what had happened.
You’re nothing but a scheming little slut! Veronica had shrieked the moment she saw her. I wish you would die, you back-stabbing sneak. You and that Ben Swift can go square to hell!
Yup. Just as she’d suspected, Gina and Mandy had ratted them out. Veronica had been so furious, so livid with rage, she completely eclipsed Samantha’s own anger and hurt over the destruction of the portrait. Samantha hadn’t even thought to bring it up. In retrospect, there would have been little point.
Veronica’s bedroom door creaked open upstairs. Samantha heard her in the hallway as she crossed to the bathroom. Was it time for another round of warfare?
I’m not sticking around this time to find out. Quickly, she donned a windbreaker and laced up her sneakers, and as an afterthought, grabbed her camera case from her dresser drawer.
A chilly dampness clung to Samantha the minute she stepped outside on the step, the air smelling of approaching rain. Traipsing aimlessly through the downtown streets and finding herself on Water, she felt a cool drizzle set in. The weather was not at all cooperating with her impulse to play photographer for a while.
Nearing the busy waterfront, she decided to try a few shots of the picturesque Narrows. Thick bands of gossamer mist veiled many of the surrounding hills, while the Southside Hills with its huge oil storage tanks stood partially obscured by fingers of snow-white fog. She arrived in time to witness a massive, white cruise ship leaving St. John’s Harbour; its enormous bulk dwarfed the half-dozen ships and tankers docked nearby. The welcome zing of salt air filled her nostrils as she took out her camera, changed settings and adjusted the lens, and turned her attention to the vessel before it moved too far away. A row of people stood along the high deck, some of them waving goodbye, their garb bright and colourful in vivid contrast to the immaculate whiteness of the ship and the surrounding mist.
The lonesome, desolate wail of the departing ship’s foghorn filled Samantha’s ears. A threesome of saddle-back seagulls wheeled and swooped in unison overhead, their screeches filling the cool air as they played, reminding her of laughter. Passing several couples and a man on roller blades, she walked further east to capture the end of the cruise ship in her lens as it glided slowly past Amherst Rock. A woman there held a little girl of about six or seven by the hand. The girl wore a red slicker and shiny rubber boots, and appeared enchanted by the cruise ship. She stared out into the harbour, pulling against the woman’s hand, refusing to leave just yet. Samantha grinned, taking a quick shot of her.
Too late to do any good, she pulled up the hood of her windbreaker against the chill, knowing her hair had already turned into a wet, unmanageable mess. On her way back along the harbour, she snapped away at the nautical scene, at one point photographing a pair of swarthy sailors deep in conversation, leaning over the rail of one of the smaller ships. One of them turned, rewarding her with a wink and a nod of his head.
Samantha frowned when she reached the end of her roll of film. Oh well, she thought, shivering. I’m feeling like a drowned rat, anyhow. But as she headed for home, an unnamed dread and a curious sense of disquiet settled on her.
By the time she got back to her own street, the legs of her jeans were soaked through completely and her camera bag was dripping. About to break into a run, she spied Kalen up ahead, walking with a red-haired girl in a neon yellow raincoat. She hung back, hoping they wouldn’t see her, wondering who the girl was and how Kalen knew her.
But they turned around. “Hi, Sam,” Kalen said, smiling. The strange girl smiled too, pulling her hood up over her red curls.
Without knowing why, Samantha didn’t like seeing Kalen with this new creature. She felt oddly diminished. “Hi.”
“Have you met Allison? Allison, this is Samantha, a friend of mine.”
“Hi,” Allison said, grinning coyly. Her lips parted, revealing a mouthful of braces. “Nice to meet you, Samantha.”
“Nice meeting you too,” Samantha said, looking down at her soaked jeans. “Yeah, I better get inside and get out of these wet clothes. I’ll see you later.”
Removing her wet jacket and sneakers in the foyer, Samantha caught her irritated expression in the small mirror hanging next to the door. She’d never seen Kalen alone with a girl before. What was he doing with that Allison person? Lost in her thoughts as she entered the kitchen, Samantha looked up to see Veronica slouched at the table with Darlene hovering over her.
Their faces told her something was amiss.
“Where did you disappear to?” her mother demanded. Her expression of alarm startled Samantha.
“I went for a walk. Why? Something happen?”
“I hope you’re not in trouble too!” Darlene burst out.
Samantha’s gaze flew to Veronica. Her sister stared back. Her eyes were as cold and hard as flint, her face still and bloodless. With her long hair pulled back severely into a tight knot at the nape of her neck, she looked as if she had aged twenty years overnight.
“Tell me you haven’t been doing it with Ben, too,” Darlene pleaded. “Sam, answer me!” She gripped the back of a chair for support, her hands shaking. “Oh, good Lord, what are we going to do?”
Samantha’s face drained of colour. She looked again at her sister. “Ronnie? You mean, you’re…no, it can’t be—”
“I don’t know for sure yet, but I’m late.” Veronica chewed her lip, her arms tightly hugging her midsection. “Answer Momma, Sam!”
The whole world had shifted and changed in a nanosecond. That peculiar
feeling of dread on her walk now had a name, and Samantha’s tender daydream of loving Ben and anticipation for the reciprocation of that love evaporated. In its wake, the nightmare of a new reality loomed.
“No, we haven’t done…that.”
Darlene let out an audible sigh of relief. But her solace was short-lived.
“Listen carefully, Sammie. I don’t want to hear of you anywhere near that boy from now on. Got it? I have enough to worry about, with this one.” She sat down in the chair across from Veronica. “Do you know when you had your last period?”
“Not exactly, but I know it’s been well over a month. I’m usually right on time.”
“You’ve been more tired than usual, haven’t you?” Darlene asked. “Sam, make a pot of coffee, would you?” Her voice trembled.
Veronica nodded. “Yeah. I’ve never been this sort of tired.” She stared at the floor.
Samantha did as she was told, fighting not to surrender to the ache in the pit of her stomach and the rising hysteria in her throat. As she measured the coffee scoops and poured in the water, her mind raced. She imagined what all of this could mean.
“Tomorrow, we need to make an appointment,” her mother said. “You’ll need an HIV test too.”
Veronica’s eyes opened wide. She looked stricken.
Darlene broke down then, sobbing into her hands. Samantha rushed to her, throwing her arms around her shoulders as they shook up and down.
“Why, Ronnie? Why would you put yourself in harm’s way like that?”
“Momma, stop. I thought we were careful. We certainly didn’t want this to happen either.”
Darlene jumped to her feet, pushing Samantha away in the process. Her half-muffled cries of pure anguish filled the house, even after she fled up to her bedroom and closed the door.
Samantha turned to her sister. “What are you going to do if you are pregnant?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know? Afraid if I have his baby, it will mess up all your pretty plans?” Veronica stood and rushed toward her, her robe flying open. “You would want me to kill it, I bet,” she hissed. “After all, I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, now do I? Thanks to you.”
Ronnie’s hand flew out and delivered a smack across her face, sharp and resounding. Samantha gasped in shock. Her head swam. Nearly welcoming the sting that burned her cheek as the tears welled up, she did nothing. She knew of no way to defend her actions that would pacify her sister. Samantha believed she deserved it, and more.
As Veronica bolted from the room, a flash of lightning illuminated the kitchen window, followed by the unearthly rumble of distant thunder.
It was nearing the end of summer. The unsettled weather hung in the air like an evil omen. To Samantha, the thunder and lightning heralded the end of her identity and her place in the family as the timid little sister. The swiftness of her sister’s slap ushered in her new status as Veronica’s equal, and any trace of innocence she had held in her heart up to now lay vanquished.
And the storm was only beginning.
Chapter Seventeen
Samantha withdrew her fingers from her mouth and laced them together in her lap. She had to stop biting her nails before she chewed them all down to the bloody quick. Drawing a deep, cleansing breath, she stared through the car windshield, wishing she could relax and stop ruminating over things of which she had no control. She had enough to worry about with the things she could, or should, control.
The worst of the thunderstorm had passed by late afternoon. A soft rain pattered on the windshield and on the canvas roof of the convertible as it wound its way up Cape Spear Drive. Samantha focused on Ben’s hands as one of them gripped the steering wheel and the other flicked on the wipers. The stereo throbbed out a Red Hot Chili Peppers tune. The car interior still held the pungency of vinegar and the take-out onion rings the boys had consumed an hour ago.
Samantha looked to her right at Kalen in profile. Strands of long hair fell in a careless sweep over his eyes as he moved to the music. Oblivious to her observation, he jerked his arms as he played his imaginary drums, his foot tapping to the up-tempo beat. Samantha grinned at his antics, bemused she was still able to manage that much.
“Prepare your eyeballs for another awesome view,” Ben said, smiling down at her. “Certainly awesome enough to rival Signal Hill. There’s nowhere more easterly on the whole continent than this cape. Did you know that?”
“Yes, I knew, I learned it in school,” she said, thinking she sounded like a petulant child. At that instant the sun peeked out between the clouds, shining through the rain shower. She blinked at its brilliance.
With any luck, they’d be able to get out and explore soon, without getting soaked to the skin. But when would she get Ben alone? She needed to talk to him in private, but that couldn’t happen with Kalen around. She hated waiting, feeling like she might burst with her possible news, but at the same time she wondered if she had the right to tell Ben anything yet.
On second thought, maybe the best thing to do was to wait, she decided. She had no real knowledge until after Ronnie’s doctor appointment anyway. Of course, the option of using a drugstore pregnancy test was available. Samantha wondered if Veronica or her mother had already thought of that.
The Thunderbird came to a halt on a patch of gravel. They had reached the summit. The three got out, slamming doors.
“Come on over this way, Samantha,” Ben said, walking toward the blue horizon.
The intermittent showers had ended at last, leaving the air smelling refreshed and invigorating. At the threshold of one of the steep banks, they stood; three silhouettes against the sky, overlooking the rich depth of the Atlantic Ocean. It stretched out in front of them as far as their eyes could see.
“I think I can see my long-lost Irish relatives from here,” Kalen said with a chuckle, his hand up to his brow as he scanned the line where sea and sky converged.
To their far left stood the old Cape Spear lighthouse; a square, white, two-storey structure with a red-striped light tower jutting up from its middle. A short distance away, the top portion of the newer light tower peeked up from its point of land. But Samantha couldn’t tear her gaze away from the sweep of cobalt blue sea that lay before them. It was so broad of a view, she fancied she could see the curvature of the entire earth’s edge. Frothy waves crashed into the black cliff face and the huge, rounded boulders far below. A cool, bracing wind whipped around them as they stood together at the precipice, sending a shiver up Samantha’s back even though the sun was out fully. In a reflex she reached for Ben’s hand.
“Maybe we shouldn’t get so close to the edge,” Kalen said.
Samantha looked to Ben. Like her, he seemed mesmerized by the view.
“I hear some people got swept away here,” Ben said. He poked at a knob of loose gravel with the toe of his sneaker, kicking it over the brink.
Samantha looked down, watching it fall into the foaming surf. “Come on, let’s move back,” she said, experiencing a moment of vertigo. Somewhat reluctantly, Ben allowed her to pull him away from the edge.
“Yeah, come on, Ben. Let’s show Sam the old World War Two bunkers over there.” Kalen motioned for them to follow him on a path through some mossy ground and berry patches. When they reached the site, Samantha combed her fingers through her windswept tangles, grateful for the shelter.
“Goin’ for a leak,” Kalen said. “Be right back.” He walked past a bunker, disappearing behind a stand of gnarled tuckamore trees.
Ben squeezed her hand tightly in his. As if he’d been waiting for the chance, he reached his arm around her waist and pulled her to him, leaning in until their lips touched. Samantha squirmed and tried to pull free, but he held her close, blocking the wind from her face. And even though she worked to avoid it, her body betrayed her under the startling urgency of his mouth. She felt his warm breath, the thump of his heart, and the feathery strokes of his tongue on the insides of her lips. Her own heart raced as a new warmth unfolded deep within her, le
aving her lightheaded yet receptive for more.
With superhuman effort, she wrenched herself away, gasping for air. Her eyes pleaded with his for understanding. Was this how he had made Veronica feel? Was this why she, too, had been helpless to his advances? In a moment of weakness, might she give in to that same temptation? She admitted a disgust in herself for letting him think he could plunder her so easily. She pushed against his chest, twisted out of his grasp, and broke into a run.
“Samantha, wait!”
She kept running. Impromptu images of Catherine and Heathcliff, running from Wuthering Heights and out to the bleak moors of Yorkshire, superimposed themselves over her thoughts. Oh God, she was so confused. What was she going to do? I’m not in love with him. I can’t be. Not taking care to watch her footing, she hooked the toe of her shoe under a rock hidden in the vegetation, sending her flying headlong into a thicket of brambles.
“Got yourself killed or what?” Kalen’s hands reached for her. Samantha grabbed them and allowed him to help her up. She brushed the black dirt and leaves from her jeans.
“Twice in one weekend,” she said, pulling off a smile. “This is becoming a habit. Are you sure you don’t think I’m a klutz?”
Ben caught up to them. He towered over her. “Why did you run like that?”
Samantha didn’t answer. The swarm of bees had returned, buzzing around inside her head in a thick confusion of wants and desires she had no names for. In spite of her muddled state, one reality stood out clear as day. It was becoming harder and harder not to get lost in Ben’s embrace. And if she didn’t put some distance between them, she knew she was finished.
She walked back to the convertible. In puzzled silence, Ben and Kalen followed.
***
Flipping over on her bed to lie on her back, Samantha tossed her book away. Jane Eyre couldn’t hold her attention today beyond a couple of minutes. She never had a problem escaping into a good book before, no matter what was going on. Not until recently.
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