Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  Oh, no. I clutch at my chest. “Is he okay? I mean, what did you see?” Is she for real?

  Her shoulders drop, and her lips pull into a straight line. She looks deep into my eyes for a moment before her lips part. “I think you should go see him. As soon as possible.”

  What? She knows how far away he is, and yet she’s telling me to go ASAP? How bad was this fall?

  I scramble in my handbag for my car keys. Determination hits me as I touch the cool metal. With a shaky hand, I grip my phone and pull it out and bring up ‘B’ in my contacts. “I need to make a call,” I mumble.

  “Of course,” Britt whispers.

  I can’t run the risk that she’s just spinning some spooky bullshit. If I’m accused of being loopy, I don’t care. I need to know if there’s any truth in what Britt has said.

  I ring Sam, but it goes through to voicemail. Damn it. I dial Ben’s number. He picks up on the second ring.

  “Did Sam fall?” I blurt out, my voice shaking just like my hands.

  “Jane? How did you know?” Ben says in a high-pitched voice.

  I cover my hand with my mouth and nod at Britt. Her eyes widen. My heart jumps up into my throat. Holy crap. She was right. Britt said I should go see him, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  “It doesn’t matter how,” I choke out. “Text me the address. I’m on my way.”

  “But Jane, we’re coming up there tomorrow. He’s okay.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m coming.”

  I need to be there for him. I have to make sure Sam’s okay.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Hey,” I say, and sigh when Ben opens the door.

  He stands there in a blue T-shirt, which is soaked down the middle. By the pull of his brows, he’s not happy about something. “Hey, Jane. Nice to see you survived the drive to the city.”

  “Barely. Let me tell you, city drivers are frickin’ lunatics. God forbid you let anyone into your lane. Ever.”

  He snorts. “You got it in one.”

  “Is Sam responsible for this?” I point to the wet fabric which clings to the defined muscles of his chest.

  “Ah, yeah. Come on in.”

  “So, he’s alive and well, then?”

  Ben shuts the door behind me, turns the handle lock, and secures the silver deadbolt above it. Sometimes I forget to lock my house, but it’s never been an issue. City life, huh?

  “He’s alive, alright. I can’t guarantee for how long, though. I might just strangle him yet.”

  I chuckle as I walk beside Ben down a tiled hallway. “Please don’t.”

  Ben guides me into a brightly lit L-shaped kitchen, which has a timber dining table with four chairs on the other side of the bench. A corner lounge is at the far end of the room, facing a flat TV fixed to the wall. Sliding doors open onto a small balcony overlooking the street.

  “How did you find out about the fall?” Ben says in a quiet voice and leans his hip against the bench. “I’ve been racking my brain since you rang. Kind of freaked me out, really. Sam made me swear not to tell you.”

  I move into the kitchen area, not quite knowing where to stand. “Oh, did he now?”

  “Yeah, he did. So, how’d you find out?”

  Is this the part where Ben is going to think I’m cuckoo? I fiddle with the strap of my bag, hitching it higher up my shoulder. “Um, I have a friend who is spiritually aware. That’s what she told me.”

  “And you believe in that stuff?”

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. “I dunno. She was right, though, so that’s something. Now, before I go and beat up Sam, what happened exactly?”

  “He said he slipped getting out of the shower, but I reckon he collapsed because it took him a bit to come to. Sam was groggy when I peeled him off the floor. He finally admitted that the steam made him dizzy and he passed out.”

  Here’s hoping it was just a slip and nothing more serious. “I’m still not happy he kept it from me. Ben, I need to know this stuff.”

  “I was going to tell you tomorrow. He’ll have a few bruises for his troubles if that makes you feel any better.”

  “Ha. Not really.” I take a look around the kitchen, and the doors coming off the room. Is Sam’s room farther down the hall, or is it through the back of the lounge room?

  “Hey, before you go see him, have you got a sec?” Ben asks. “He’s probably sleeping anyhow.”

  As much as I’m busting to be by Sam’s side, the forlorn look in Ben’s pale blue eyes has my feet rooted to the spot. They silently beg me for my time. He needs to talk, and one thing I’m good at is listening.

  “Course,” I say with a nod.

  “Coffee? Tea?” he asks, motioning towards the coffee machine.

  “Coffee, two sugars, please.” I’ll definitely need it to keep me alert for the drive home.

  As he watches the coffee drip into the second cup, his shoulders drop with a mammoth sigh.

  “How are you coping, Ben?”

  He lifts his head and grants me a weary smile, positioning the next cup beneath the spout. The frown lines across his brow seem to carry the weight of the world. “Okay, I guess. Sam is being an arse.”

  “In what way?”

  He shrugs. “He doesn’t listen and we argue all the time. Maybe he’s moody because he isn’t seeing you as much. It could be a case of brothers being brothers—I dunno. It’s as if the pain has gotten worse. Maybe that’s the issue.”

  Is Sam going backwards with his recovery?

  Ben pours milk into the cups. He fishes a metal spoon from a nearby drawer and adds my sugar and stirs the hot liquid.

  I reach over and place my hand on his, halting him mid-stir. “Are you sure it’s gotten worse?”

  His eyes meet mine. On closer inspection, the whites of his eyes are splintered with red. Is he having trouble sleeping? Is Sam keeping him up? Is the stress of caring for his sibling taking a toll?

  “I dunno,” he finally says on an exhale.

  “I’m sure he’d tell you if he wasn’t doing well. Don’t overthink it. Being a carer is hard work.”

  “You make it look easy. I’ve seen the way you are with him, with others at the home. It’s like second nature to you.”

  “Ben, my job is to look after the paperwork and run activities. Taking responsibility of someone’s health and ongoing care is a huge deal. I don’t know how some of the nurses at work do it. I pounce when someone so much as sneezes. So maybe just give yourself a break, huh?”

  The conversation takes a break as we sip on our hot drinks. Ben stares through the small kitchen window, which faces the early evening traffic.

  “I want him to see the neurologist again, but he says he’s fine. He’s hell-bent on being able to dance at the festival. I keep telling him not to push this, but he’s determined.”

  He’s hell-bent? I try not to let my beaming smile show through. It makes me feel all kinds of special knowing that this is what Sam is focusing on, but if it’s going to be detrimental to his progress, I don’t want that. “I’ll talk to him if you want?”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know whether it’ll help. He’s not thinking straight. Reminds me of a quote my mother told me when I had my heart broken the first time. ‘You can’t be wise and in love at the same time.’”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks at the mention of love. Sometimes I’m giddy with the simple thought of seeing Sam. I could regularly be accused of not thinking straight.

  I clear my throat. “Nice quote. Who said that?”

  “Bob Dylan.”

  Well, that explains part of Sam’s fascination with him. Did his mother help nurture Sam’s love of music? I must remember to ask him that.

  I reach out and squeeze Ben’s upper arms. “I’ll have a chat with him. While it’s been good to have something on the horizon for us to focus on, I’m not going to cry myself to sleep if we don’t make the festival. The country music will probably drive him nuts anyhow.”

  Ben’s mouth tilt
s up at the corners. He leans down and places a soft kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering a little too long. “You’re too wise for your age, you know that?”

  His affection takes me aback. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say,” I joke.

  Ben’s Adam’s apple bobs. “I’m glad you’re here. I could use some support.”

  “Happy to help.” I take another welcome sip of my sweet coffee. “If you ever need to talk, you know I’m only a phone call away.”

  “Thanks.” He rubs at the back of his neck. “I, ah, shouldn’t keep you from him any longer. Come on, I’ll show you to his room.”

  I finish my drink and place the cup in the sink. Ben directs me past his room, the shared toilet and bathroom, and finally to Sam’s room.

  I pry open the door and find Sam. His t-shirt and sheets have dark wet patches on them. It looks like someone lost their temper.

  “Do I need to get Mrs Peters onto you?” I bark out.

  “Janie,” Sam says and sighs loudly. He pulls in a sharp intake of breath. “You’re here. Why?”

  “I was in the neighbourhood.”

  Sam chuckles and throws the covers back, sitting on the edge of the bed in a pair of black basketball shorts. “Unlikely. No, seriously, why?”

  I put down my bag and press my clenched fists to my hips. “Um, because you had a fall? Why didn’t you tell me?” My shoulders move closer to my ears as I wait for a response.

  His brows draw together, and he mumbles something about his brother.

  “Before you go off at him, Ben didn’t say a word. It was my psychic friend. At least, I think she’s psychic. Britt, she has visions and stuff, and you were on her mind last night around eleven o’clock or something, and then she told me she sensed you had a fall and that I should come see you.” I run my outstretched fingers across my forehead. “Sorry, I’m rambling. That makes sense though, yeah?”

  “None whatsoever.” Sam grins and looks me up and down.

  “What?” I look down at my faded blue jeans and brush down the front of my red-and-white-checked flannelette shirt. My brown hiking boots are a little dusty, but I was planning on going for a bushwalk. Until Britt and I had our chat.

  “You can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. Nice duds.”

  “Shut up, you. I was in a hurry. So again, why didn’t you ring me?”

  “Because I didn’t want you to panic over nothing. Now …” He motions with his arm for me to join him. “Get that cute writer butt of yours over here.”

  I bound on the bed and wrap my arms around him. “You know, speaking of writing, I finally broke the drought with my words.” I sit up and straighten my spine.

  Sam swoops in with a kiss that steals my breath and has my lungs fighting for air.

  “You did? That’s great.”

  “Yup. Turns out I was writing about the wrong characters. Now I’m writing about us, Sam. We have a story.”

  His eyes widen. “We do?”

  I ruffle my fingers through the long hair on top of his head. “Course we do.”

  “Not much of a story right now,” he says, looking down at his wet shirt.

  “Oh, shut up. Always the dramatics with you,” I tease. It draws a one-sided smile from his mouth before his lips slowly curl into a grin.

  “How come you won’t see the neurologist?” Might as well get that out in the open, too.

  His smile drops. “Ben told you?” He narrows his eyes in the direction of the open door.

  “Yes. That he told me. And I’m glad,” I say, my voice firm. “So why won’t you?”

  He crosses his arms beneath his chest. “I don’t need to. Doin’ fine.”

  “Ben says you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

  “Like I said. I’m. Fine.” Stubborn boy.

  “Is this all for the festival?” I probe.

  “Jane, you said you wanted to go, yeah? Well, I wanna go with you, but without the fucking walker. What’s the big deal?”

  Whoa. “It’s not a big deal, I just—”

  He swoops his hands around my hips and lays me back on the bed. “Don’t panic, Janie. I got this.” Sam kisses me softly on the lips.

  “I missed you,” I tell him as I smooth my hand over his chest.

  “I want you to stay the night, Janie,” he says in a quiet voice.

  I hadn’t really thought about what the plan would be once I got here. “I want that too, but I’d better check if it’s okay with Ben. It’s his house.”

  Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s as much mine as it is his. No need to ask him.”

  “Fine. I won’t ask him then.” My mouth pulls into a straight line.

  “What?” Sam barks.

  “You need to give him a break, Sam.”

  “Who? Ben?”

  “Yes, your brother, Ben. He’s doing the best he can.”

  “Fuck, I know.” He scrapes a hand down his face. “I just wish it was like how it used to be between us. I love him, but sometimes it’s hard to take it when he treats me more like a misbehaving son than a brother.”

  I level out my hand over Sam’s heart. It beats hard against my fingers. My touch seems to soothe him, from the slump in his shoulders. “Just think how he must be feeling,” I say softly.

  Sam stares at me for a while, and then slowly nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Outside of my issues, sometimes I forget about all the fucked-up shit he’s had to deal with.”

  Is there something I’m missing here? I know the boys lost their mother and don’t see their father often, but I get the feeling there’s more to it. “What do you mean?”

  Sam’s jaw tightens. A myriad of emotions flashes through his eyes.

  “Has it got to do with his ex-wife?” I probe.

  His brows pull together, creating a V. “You knew he was married? Who told you?”

  “No one. I, ah, noticed the indent on his ring finger when he came into the home the first time.”

  He nods as if relieved that that’s my answer. Clearly, he doesn’t like people talking about his brother being married. “It’s just not my place to talk about it.”

  It must’ve been a really nasty divorce. My blood boils thinking about how a woman could take advantage of such a kind soul, because I can’t imagine that Ben would do wrong by anyone.

  I clear my throat. It’s none of my business. “Sure.”

  Sam lifts my hand off his chest and pulls me closer. “Don’t take it personally, babe. It’s just some things are hard to get over.”

  Moving my head onto his shoulder, I curl my hand around his waist and squeeze. “Of course. I’m too curious for my own good sometimes.”

  Silence cloaks us as I imagine Ben’s heartbreak. I find myself feeling protective over the sheriff. If I ever cross paths with his ex, she’ll likely get a serve from me.

  “So, you’re staying, right?” Sam asks.

  I look up to meet his puppy-dog eyes. My stomach rumbles. Strong coffee on an empty stomach is not doing me any favours.

  Sam pokes my tummy. “When was the last time you ate?”

  I didn’t have time for lunch before meeting the girls, and I was in such a hurry to get here, the thought of food evaded me. “Um, I had a late lunch. Nutella cheesecake.” I grit my teeth together, realising it’s going on dinnertime.

  Sam shakes his head and tuts. “Not good enough.”

  “Shush. I was in a hurry to be somewhere, okay?”

  Sam plants a warm kiss to my forehead. “And I couldn’t be happier.”

  “So now that I’m staying, what are we gonna eat?”

  “I’m up for anything.”

  “’Kay, leave it with me,” I say and stand. “I’ll be back.”

  I reach the door and turn to him. It dawns on me I have no idea if he likes wine, and if he does, what his preference is. “You drink wine?”

  “Yup.”

  “White or red?”

  “Whatever’s goin’,” he says with a wink.


  “Is there anything in particular you want to eat? Should I get something for Ben too?”

  “I’m not fussed. I think Ben was gonna heat up leftover spaghetti.”

  As I enter the hall, I pull out my phone and text Kathleen and explain I’m visiting Sam and won’t be home tonight. Using lots of ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’, I ask her to use the key under the mat to check in on Butch and feed him. I get a quick text back.

  Kathleen: Not a problem. Enjoy your trip. See you at the festival.

  There’s nothing in the way of me staying now. Insert happy dance.

  I find Ben in the kitchen, his eyes on the newspaper spread out before him on the bench.

  “Hey,” I say, drawing Ben’s eyes upward.

  “Hey,” he mumbles and offers a soft smile.

  “Could you pretty please do me a huge favour?”

  His eyes widen, and he straightens his back. “Of course. Anything.”

  “Direct me to the corner store? I’m gonna grab us a couple of things.”

  “What are you after?” Ben opens the fridge, revealing a few empty shelves.

  “Cheese and nibbles.”

  Ben’s face softens, and a small chuckle escapes his mouth. “We’re all out.” He swoops up a set of keys from the side of the bench. “I think I’d better drive. You might not make it otherwise.”

  We leave Sam with strict orders to stay put until we return.

  Chapter Forty

  “Seriously, though. I can’t believe they have a mile-long aisle for crackers and snacks. That’s just insane. Way too much choice for a small-town girl.”

  “You say it like choice is a bad thing,” Ben says as he unlocks his car and opens the back door. I wheel the small trolley closer to the car, careful not to touch the paintwork.

  “Well, in there it is!” I thumb towards the building. “I must’ve looked like a kangaroo in the headlights. It could’ve been days before I found what I was looking for.”

  Ben unloads bags into the back. “Looks like some party you’ve got planned.” The two bottles of red wine clink as he positions them beside each other on the floor.