Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Hi. Yeah, it’s just Sam’s fallen asleep.”

  She huffs. “Oh, is that all.”

  “He looks so tired, I’d hate to wake him up.”

  “As long as you’re both safe—that’s all I’m concerned about.”

  “I’ll give him half an hour, and then I’ll try to stir him.”

  “That’s fine,” Kathleen says. “We’ll see you a bit later.”

  I soak up the sun, snuggled into Sam’s side. His rattles and moans never turn into full-blooded snores. It makes me wonder what it’d be like sleeping next to Sam, feeling the heat of his body close to mine. I practically drool at the thought. But could I keep my hands to myself if given the opportunity to be in the same bed as him?

  Probably not.

  Yeah, definitely not.

  We should really talk about what’s going to happen after he leaves the home. I’ve been delaying the conversation, and Sam hasn’t brought it up either. Maybe it’s a case of neither of us being ready for the change. We have to be positive, though. It’s a step in the right direction for Sam and I’ll be there for him, even if there’s distance between us.

  But once he’s fully recovered, will he be travelling all over the countryside? Will our contact eventually fade away? Will Sam remember the girl in Willow Creek who sat by his bedside, read to him, and confided in him?

  After a while has passed, I decide to wake Sam before my thoughts eat me alive. I’m overthinking our relationship. There’s no need complicate things any further.

  “Sam,” I whisper. I tap him on the shoulder.

  He fails to stir.

  “You’re drooling, Sam,” I say, louder this time. “Incredibly sexy.”

  He pries one eye open. Of course, that sparked his attention.

  “Sexy, huh? I’m red-hot company, aren’t I?” he says in jest.

  “If I’m honest, you’re great company. You make the cutest little noises when you sleep. Kind of like my dog.”

  “No guy likes to be compared to anything cute. Or furry.” Sam brings his arms forward and winces.

  “What’s wrong?” I blurt out.

  “I’ve lost feeling in my arms,” he says and grits his teeth.

  I sit up on my haunches. My heart starts beating like crazy. “Oh my god ... do I have to do something?” Jumping into action, I carefully straddle his lap, and reach out to touch his bent elbows, ever so gently. “Do I need to take you to the hospital?”

  Sam’s chest expands with a deep breath. The corners of his pink lips curl upwards. They continue to stretch until Sam’s white teeth are revealed.

  “Are you panicking?” he asks. He makes a long ‘ow’ sound.

  My brows pull together. I should be calm under pressure. Put your responsible thinking hat on, Jane.

  “N-no,” I stutter. “Tell me what I need to do. I’m calm.” I nod, more to convince myself than Sam. “I promise.”

  “Relaaax, babe. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep in this position.”

  Relief floods through my veins. “Oh, good,” I say with a heavy sigh. He’s just having your typical dead arms. I fall asleep with my arms above my head all the time, so I can sympathise with how awful it feels—as if your bones are on fire.

  “I just need to get the blood flowing again,” Sam grumbles. He raises his left arm up and brings it back down. His range of motion seems to increase each time he repeats the movement.

  I settle farther into his lap. “Can I help?”

  In my head, I know I should move. My heart has other ideas. How often do we get the chance to be this close?

  I place one hand on his right elbow and the other on his right hand. Sam nods in approval. Slowly, I bring his other arm to his waist and wiggle his fingers in a circular motion. A growl rumbles in the back of his throat when I finally settle his hand on his flat stomach.

  “Okay?” I ask, searching his eyes as I roll my hips back.

  “The blood’s flowing somewhere,” he says and winks.

  Something hard twitches beneath me. “Oh, right,” I grumble as I try to shuffle off him. Sam grips me loosely on my hips. His hold isn’t strong enough to keep me there, but I give in and stay put.

  “Thank you,” Sam whispers.

  “For what exactly?” The grinding? Giving you a stiffy? I’ll happily continue.

  “For getting me out. The breeze on my skin, fresh air in my lungs, the water—oh my god, the water, and you? Everything’s been so perfect.” Sam squeezes his eyes shut and draws in a noisy breath. When he opens them, they’re filled with concern. His fingers dig into the meaty part of my hips.

  “But? I’m sensing a but, here,” I say, breaking the heavy silence.

  “I gonna miss this. Miss you,” he says in a quiet voice and turns his head.

  My heart pumps harder in my chest, as Sam focuses on the trees beside him.

  I stroke his upper arms with my fingertips. His gaze returns to me. “I’ll miss you too, Sam.” I struggle with what to say next. This distance is going to be tough.

  Sam sighs and reaches up to run his thumb along my jaw. “I mean, let’s face it. You’re set up in Willow Creek. I’m moving three hours away. I’m still recovering.”

  “Sam,” I bark. “Yes, I’m set up in Willow Creek. Yes, you’re moving three hours away, but I have this thing called a motor vehicle that goes places and yes, you big dummy. You’re still recovering, and you’re doing amazing.”

  He pulls his hand back and chews at his thumbnail. “I don’t know what the next month looks like, let alone the next year.”

  I unwrap the damp towel from my body and dump it beside us. “Neither do I,” I say in a teasing tone, leaning closer. “What I do know is that you and I are sitting pretty by the water and I’m in no rush to get back to—”

  Sam’s lips smash into mine before I get a chance to finish. I slide down his body as he teases me with his tongue, stealing my breath in the process. I scoop my arms around his shoulders and draw him close. We lie side by side. Sam worms his way deeper into my heart with each kiss, each touch. His hand tugs at the hair at the nape of my neck. Sam rolls into me and presses his hardness against my hip.

  My mouth waters at the thought of him naked, of us bared to each other. I throw my leg over him, desperate to get closer. I’ve never wanted somebody so bad.

  I tug at the waistband of his shorts. For a split second, I worry that someone might catch us in the act, but that concern quickly leaves my thoughts.

  “Jane,” Sam growls against my mouth.

  I moan back in response, sliding my tongue against his. I smooth my palm down the front of his shorts. He fills my hand and then some. He’s rock solid.

  The thought of giving Sam pleasure drives my own excitement. I glide my hand up and down his length, taking my time with each stroke. The thin fabric does little to hide his shape, and how hard he is. Sam’s body quivers. I tug at his shorts to pull them down.

  Sam jerks his hand to stop me. He pulls his lips from mine and snorts out a breath through his nose. “Janie,” he whispers.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Sam rolls onto his back and looks up through the sheoak branches.

  I blink repeatedly, looking up to the sky which holds his focus, then down to his tented shorts, and back to his flushed face.

  I place my hand on his labouring chest. “Sam?” I squeak. I fail to get his attention, so I kneel beside him and sit back on my heels.

  He glances up through his long lashes, opens his mouth, and then closes it again. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says after a pause. He slides his hands either side of my hips. “Because believe me, Janie girl, there’s nothing I want more.”

  “I get it. It’s okay,” I say on an exhale. I don’t get it. I want you. I want you now.

  “In my head we’ve been together a hundred times over, but the reality is, my body … it’s …” Sam lets out a mammoth sigh. Emotions swirl in his tortured gaze as the muscles in his jaw tick.

  I
took it too far. I should’ve let Sam set the pace. But I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Like I said. It’s okay,” I assure him.

  Perhaps I should try and lighten the mood. I don’t want him to beat himself up about this. Besides, I was probably jumping the gun thinking he’d be ready.

  I lie down on my stomach beside him and nudge his chest with my shoulder. “You good?”

  The tension in his jaw fades.

  As the smile on my lips grows, the apples of my cheeks rise higher into my vision.

  “What?” he blurts out.

  I lick at my bottom lip. “A hundred times, huh?” I tease.

  Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Y-e-a-h,” he drawls.

  I tilt my head to the side. “Was I good?”

  He snorts and throws his arm over my shoulders, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Every damn time.”

  A shiver runs up my spine. “Really?”

  “Yup. And you know what?” he says, desire pooling in his eyes.

  “What?”

  “When I’m ready, babe, I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he says, and dots a kiss on my neck. “Because you deserve the best.”

  I turn my body and smack a loud kiss to his lips. “I’ll hold you to that, Sam Marshall.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  At the end of the day, I make my way to Sam’s room. After our extended trip to the falls I didn’t have time to accomplish much in the remainder of the afternoon, so my overtime went well into the night.

  When I walk inside room number ten, a stack of boxes are by the door. Seeing them there is a cold, hard reminder that tomorrow is his last day here. Gulp.

  I find Sam sitting on the bed, moving his hands in front of him as he talks softly to Kathleen, who’s standing with her back to the window. Her arms are crossed beneath her chest.

  “Hey,” I say from the doorway. Kathleen’s head swings towards me in record time. Sam’s gaze follows quickly after. Silence immediately cloaks them both.

  Whatever they were chatting about before, they don’t want to continue doing so in my presence. The sheepish look on both their faces doesn’t give me much comfort. Were they discussing me?

  “Busted!” I tease. “You can stop talking about me, now.”

  “Yeah, you got us,” Kathleen says as she strides towards me, hands held just above her head in defeat.

  “Yep. Busted,” Sam adds with a cheeky wink.

  “I don’t think either of us would know what to do without you,” Kathleen says softly as she walks through the doorway.

  God, I love her.

  I blow her a kiss and walk closer to Sam. My bag lands with a thud on the end of his bed. Taking both his hands in mine, I smile. “So, don’t freak out, but—”

  “But what?” Sam asks, his eyebrows jumping closer to his hairline.

  “I’ve organised a bit of a farewell for you tomorrow afternoon.” I watch his face closely and try to gauge his reaction.

  He raises our joined hands and drops them on his lap. “Oh, have you now?”

  I study his face, but it’s hard to tell if he’s pissed or not. He has a poker face on. A good one at that.

  “Yeah, I have. I just thought I’d let you know now. Get you used to the idea.”

  A smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Is this so I don’t skip out early?”

  I sit beside him and wrap my arms around his shoulders. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t care how big your brother is, he’s not taking you out of here tomorrow without my say so. Got it?”

  “So, attendance at the farewell is mandatory, huh?” Sam slips his hands around my hips.

  I place a soft kiss to his cheek. “Yes. You will be missed, Sam, and not just by me.”

  He cocks his eyebrows. “You reckon?”

  “Absolutely. It’s a chance for everyone to say goodbye, but also to celebrate. No more stark white walls for you.”

  “Well, don’t go to too much trouble, okay?”

  “Nothing’s too much trouble for you.”

  A silence grows between us. There’s so much I want to say, yet I don’t want to waste the time we have left by filling the space with meaningless words.

  “You’re too good to me, you know that?” Sam says, and dots a kiss on the tip of my nose.

  I roll my eyes. “It’s just an afternoon tea.” Although I will be baking my arse off until the wee hours of tomorrow morning to make it happen, but he doesn’t need to know that.

  “It’s not just that, Janie. I’m talking about everything you’ve done for me. I wouldn’t have come this far without you.”

  “You give me too much credit, Mr Marshall.”

  Sam reaches up and traces my jaw with his thumb. My heart rate picks up the pace. “And to think if it wasn’t for this stupid disease, I probably wouldn’t have met you. How’s that for a silver lining?”

  “Gotta love ’em,” I say, and cluck my tongue.

  Sam starts humming, low and soft, and sways his upper body ever so slightly from side to side. “I was lost inside my head, forgot about my plans, ’til a girl with cherry lips, came and took my hand,” he sings, and takes in a deep breath. “She breathed life into my bones, with her crazy big heart, da nah nah nah nah, I knew it from the start.” Sam goes back to humming, his brows drawing together.

  My heart booms. “God, I love it when you sing,” I gush. “What’s that song?”

  “Hmm, just a little something.” One of his originals? Sam pecks a kiss to my cheek.

  “I hate to say this, Sam, because I don’t wanna leave, but I have to. I’ve got some things to do.” I look up to the ceiling as I recount my to-do list.

  Bake cinnamon tea cake and choc chip cookies, Anzac cookies if I have enough oats in the pantry;

  Chop fruit for the cheese platter; and

  Make chocolate crackles.

  “Like I said. Don’t go to too much trouble,” he says, dragging my head out of images of the train wreck that’ll soon be my kitchen.

  I rise off the bed and scoop up my bag. “Shush. I heard you the first time.”

  Sam curls his hand around my waist. “Can I walk you to the end of the corridor at least?” he asks, his eyes begging me to say yes.

  A hundred times, yes. “That’s very gentlemanly of you.”

  “My mother taught me well. It was just a matter of being able to.”

  When we reach the doors to reception, I turn to face Sam. He releases the walker from his firm grip and gives it a gentle push to the side, straightening his back. Standing tall, Sam reaches out and curls his hand around my neck. He gives a forceful tug, and I bump into his chest. He cradles my face in his hands.

  As he glances down at me with glistening eyes, I wonder how on earth I’m going to be able to watch him leave.

  “I love you,” he says, his voice thick. “No matter what happens when I leave here, or what lies ahead. Know that I love you, Janie.”

  I stand on tippy-toes and wrap my arms around him. Tears prick at my eyes as I bring my lips to his and kiss him with the same conviction he seemed to hold in his words.

  “You have my heart, Sam,” I choke out. “I love you too.”

  For a while we stand there, wrapped tight in each other’s arms.

  With every tick of the clock, a little piece of me dies.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  As I apply a coat of cherry lip gloss, Kathleen finally arrives at reception. Because, guess what? Today, of all days, Sally-Anne hasn’t showed up.

  “Sorry, I’ve made you late for your lunch,” she apologies.

  “It’s okay. No problems,” I say and hook my bag over my shoulder.

  “Sally-Anne might be in later. Car troubles, apparently.” Kathleen’s lips form a tight line.

  I think we both know it’s just another excuse. Besides that, she only lives about a fifteen-minute walk from here.

  After grabbing two containers from the fridge, filled with cold Vietnamese noodle salads I made Sam and I
for lunch, I stuff them in my bag with some plastic forks and power-walk to his room.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t leave reception …” I trail off as I enter the almost vacant space. The bed is stripped bare. The boxes by the door are now gone.

  Has he left early?

  My heart booms in protest.

  No, he wouldn’t do that.

  A package wrapped in brown paper on the bedside table catches my eye. Janie is written in messy black writing in the centre of it.

  I rip at the paper. A small white piece of card drops out.

  Janie,

  You’re my hero

  Sam x

  I pull a square object from within and gasp. In a white wooden photo frame is the selfie I took of the two of us on Superhero Day. Sam’s face is pale. Dark rings hang beneath his eyes, but his smile is priceless.

  The walker isn’t anywhere to be seen. Heat crawls up my throat and I grit my teeth. Has he left without saying goodbye? Surely not.

  I tuck the frame in my bag and dash from the room. “You playing hard to get again, Marshall?” I curse as I wander down the corridor.

  Music starts playing from the dining hall. It’s acoustic and mellow and sounds like someone is warming up to play. I follow the sounds of music into the dining room and am met with a full house. Chairs are assembled in a much more orderly fashion than normal. Nearly every seat is occupied.

  Oh my god, is everyone here? It is so rare that happens. It’s like herding cats with the residents here sometimes. To get them all in one place is no small feat.

  Paige waves at me from the large windows which frame the mountains. Smiling wide, she juts her chin towards the opposite side of the room. I shift my attention in that direction. An older guy with wavy brown hair that’s greyed above the ears is sitting on a chair with a shiny wooden guitar. Is that the guy from the fundraiser? He strums the instrument, twisting the small knobs at the end, tuning it as if he’s done it a million times before. Who organised this?

  A walker moves into view in the doorway behind the guitarist. Wearing blue jeans and a black button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows, Sam makes his entrance. His blond hair is slicked back. The determination on his face is admirable as he makes his way over to the chair beside the guitarist. He makes walking look easy, but the strain in his forearms and hands tells a different story. When he takes his seat, his chest is labouring. The man with the guitar hands Sam a microphone.