Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  I can’t help but beam with pride. “Well, today’s a pretty big deal around here. They should rename it Pumpkinville for this one day of the year.”

  Slowly, a smile teases at Ben’s lips. “You love it here, huh?”

  I laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

  I send Kathleen a text to let her know we aren’t far away.

  The squeak of a wheel draws both our eyes in the direction of the hallway. Sam emerges in a white button-down collared shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his lower arms. Although his skin is paler than his brother’s, I swear good forearms run in the family. Mustard khaki pants sit low on his hips, atop a pair of brown shoes with the laces in disarray.

  I walk over to him and peck him on the cheek. “You look yummy,” I whisper.

  “Exactly what I was aiming for,” Sam says. He turns the walker around and sits on the padded seat.

  “Here, let me.” I bend down and tie Sam’s laces.

  “Great view I’ve got from here,” Sam teases. I look up and catch him gawking at my boobs.

  “How did physio go?” I ask, changing the subject.

  “Yeah, alright,” Sam says, and stares at his open palms. He flexes his fingers out and back into fists, grimacing. “My hands, they’re—”

  “You guys ready to hit the road?” Ben calls out in a gruff voice. I look around Sam. His brother’s waiting at the front door, gripping the handle.

  Sam huffs and closes his eyes for a beat.

  I tie the laces on the other shoe. “Think so,” I say, and help Sam to his feet. He grips the walker and moves forward.

  “What were you saying?” I ask as we approach the door. Was it something about his hands?

  “Never mind. Let’s get going.” Sam plants a loud kiss on my temple as we move out onto the porch. “So, what’s the plan of attack, Janie?”

  I reach back and pull the door shut. “Well, for starters, we eat, check out the scarecrow judging, then we look at the pretty pumpkins.”

  Sam’s chuckles interrupt my train of thought.

  “Shush, let me finish. Then we eat some more, watch the pumpkin-rolling competition, and then …” I bite down on my lip.

  “Then what?” Sam says as Ben helps him down the steps.

  “Then, Sam, at dusk, we dance.”

  “Can’t wait,” he says as we approach the car. “Wore me dancing shoes specially,” he says with a twang in his voice.

  I help Sam into the back seat and slide in beside him, flattening my dress beneath me.

  As the car travels down the road, Sam reaches over and grips my hand. I look across and catch him flinch. I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw, either.

  I take in a large breath, savouring it, then lean in and peck his cheek. “So glad you’re here,” I whisper.

  A beautiful smile stretches across his face. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  I cuddle into his side for the few minutes it takes to reach the showgrounds. Ordinarily, I walk to the festival because the parking is always crazy and backed up for miles, but for Sam we need to find somewhere close.

  The brakes on Ben’s car squeak as it rolls to a stop out the front of the grand wrought-iron gates. Ben turns his head to face us. “Listen, you guys go on without me.”

  My heart sinks. Was their disagreement really that bad?

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” I ask, pleading with my eyes. Surely, he doesn’t want to miss it after coming all this way?

  He looks to Sam and then back at me. “Nah, all good. Was thinking I’d take a drive up to the falls. It’s been a while.”

  “Okay, well, let us know if you decide to come back. Or if you want, you can chill back at my place. The doors are unlocked.”

  Ben’s brows pull together. “Unlocked?”

  “Yeah, I forgot to grab my keys.”

  “I’ll go back and lock up for you,” Ben offers.

  “Only if you want to. FYI, people around here routinely leave their doors unlocked.”

  Ben shakes his head, gets out, and opens the rear door. He brings the walker to Sam’s side.

  “Have fun.” Ben bows his head and walks back to the driver’s side.

  “Prepare yourself, Sam. Shit’s about to get pumpkiny,” I say with an exaggerated wink.

  Sam chuckles as he negotiates the walker closer to the gate. “What about corny?”

  I pat him on the back. “Good one, mate.”

  Kathleen is waiting at the entry for us. She waves and makes her way through the sea of festival-goers. The crowd parts for her, revealing the wheelchair I asked her to arrange. It’s not motor-driven, like the one Sam had in the home, but it’ll do the job. She wheels the chair in front of Sam and stops.

  “Well, Mr Marshall. Don’t you look well,” Kathleen says, and places her hand on his shoulder.

  I can’t even look at Sam, because I know he’ll probably hate me for it. At the end of the day, Ben and I just want what’s best for him, and exhaustion isn’t going to do him any favours. Certainly not after his fall.

  “Don’t need it,” he tells her, his jaw tight. “But thanks, boss.”

  Kathleen shrugs at me, as if to silently tell me that she tried. I walk around and stand in front of him. “I thought you might get too tired walking around. You’re not getting out of this dance, you know.”

  “Not tryin’ to,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Sam,” I say on an exhale. Our eyes connect. “We have hours ahead of us. Even I’ll be exhausted by then. Please do this for me. I promise once the dance starts, we’ll ditch the chair.”

  As Sam stares into my eyes, I can see the battle he’s waging within himself. After a moment, he lets out a heavy breath. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, and moves to sit in the chair.

  “I’ll keep the walker at the first-aid marquee,” Kathleen says with a smile as she grips the handles of the walker. “Come and get it whenever you’re ready.”

  We say our goodbyes for now, and I wheel Sam towards the first row of stalls. “Now, how about we turn that frown upside down with some scones, huh?”

  I curve one hand over his shoulder. Sam turns his head and kisses the top of my knuckles.

  ***

  After an afternoon of indulging, and watching various competitions, we make ourselves comfortable by a firepit beneath a row of glowing pumpkin lanterns, and sip at our warm mulled wine. Shaun the guitarist, who happens to be Kathleen’s brother-in-law, comes and sits with us before he starts his set. We all laugh as Sam and he reminisce about their performance in the nursing home. It warms my heart when Sam says he’ll happily do the gig again when he’s in town next.

  I leave the two music enthusiasts to chat and go for a walk to the ladies’ room. When I return, Shaun is warming up on stage, and Sam is staring at the fire. As I approach, his eyes look up. The smile on his glowing face is simply beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?

  “Great guy,” Sam says, and motions for me to sit on his lap.

  “Yeah, he really is.”

  Sam wraps his arms around me as we listen to Shaun make love to his guitar with his hands, gifting us with his talent. After a couple of solos, a young girl with long dark hair joins him on stage, bringing with her a microphone on a stand. Her voice is sweet and melodic as she sings an acoustic version classic U2 song, “Beautiful Day”.

  Sam slides his hand down my thigh and curls it over my knee. “This is our cue.” He clears his throat.

  My heart thrashes about as we rise to our feet. I move to hook his arm over my shoulders, but he freezes.

  “I just need you to hold my hand, Janie,” he says, his voice thick. He stretches out his arm towards me. “I need to do this by myself.”

  Knowing how important this is to him, I watch on in awe as step by tortured step, we walk together until we reach the nearest corner of the makeshift dance floor. I look up to the stage, and Shaun is wearing a wide smile.

 
I place my left hand on Sam’s shoulder, and reach for his hand with my right. A shiver runs up my spine as our hands clasp together. Sam presses a kiss to my knuckles and scoops his other arm around my side, splaying his fingers against the small of my back. He breathes in deep and steadies himself. As seconds go by, his face becomes fierce with concentration. Bit by bit, his feet shuffle from left to right.

  “I promise I’ll try not to step on your toes,” I say to lighten the mood.

  Sam’s shoulders drop enough for me to notice. “Unlikely,” he says. “I’m the one you need to worry about.” Sam turns his head to the side and coughs.

  “You feeling okay?”

  He sniffs. “Nah, I’m fine. Probably just the dust.”

  With all the foot traffic today, I’m surprised I haven’t been sneezing like crazy. I kiss Sam softly on the cheek. Now seems like the perfect time to question what’s going on with him and Ben. “Can I ask you something? Tell me if you don’t wanna talk about it.”

  His brows pull together. “Okay.”

  “Is everything good between you and your brother?”

  Sam purses his lips, inches his shoulders upward, and drops them back into place. “Yup. I guess.”

  “It’s just when you arrived, the vibe between you two seemed off.”

  “Yeah, well the sheriff has ideas about what’s good for me. I know what’s good for me.”

  I link my fingers behind Sam’s neck. “He cares about you, Sam.”

  “I’m tryin’ to move forward, get somewhere, be somebody. I just feel like he’s holding me back.”

  I look down at our feet and back up to meet his frown. “You seem to be moving ahead just fine to me.”

  “I’m no ballroom dancer.”

  I press my lips against his. I delight in a long-lasting kiss until Sam moans in the back of his throat.

  Reluctantly, I pull back. “Then lucky for the both of us, because I don’t want a dancer. I want you.”

  The song finishes, but we continue to sway, locked tight in each other’s arms. The young girl nods to Shaun and walks offstage as a lady with wild ginger hair in a ruffled denim dress and cowgirl boots takes her place. The woman, who looks to be in her forties, adjusts the microphone to her height, and then plucks the strings of a mandolin. Her voice crackles as she sings about writing a song, and her tears.

  Sam’s arms stiffen around me. “Of all the frickin’ songs, she picks this one by Willie Nelson?”

  The lady continues on about sad songs and waltzes. It’s kind of depressing. Ironic, really. I shift my arms around Sam’s waist.

  “I hate country music,” he growls in my ear.

  “The song’s not that bad,” I lie.

  Sam’s mouth moves to my ear. The heat of his breath sends a flood of warmth to my lower belly. “I just wanted this one moment. She’s killin’ me.”

  I tighten my hold around him. “Forget about her.”

  Sam grinds his teeth. “How can I? It’s all I can hear.”

  “Then listen to me instead.” I press one hand to the centre of his chest. “We made it, Sam. We made it here to this very spot.”

  A lazy smile curls at his mouth. “Now’s not the time to make me weak at the knees, Janie.”

  I waggle my eyebrows. “You’re right. I’ll save that business for later tonight,” I say in the sexiest tone I can muster.

  “I had Ben stop off on the way, buy some protection,” he says, catching me off guard.

  I swallow down. “Cool.” Shit, we didn’t use anything last night. We have to be more careful.

  “Big brother wasn’t impressed. Not sure if it was about stopping when we were runnin’ late, or the fact I sent him in there to buy a jumbo pack of extra-large condoms. Anyone would think he was jealous or something.”

  I clear my throat and try not to imagine Sam naked. Or in the shower, water cascading down his torso. Sam, hard as concrete. “Some people get embarrassed buying that stuff,” I finally say. I know I do. Not that I buy stuff like that often.

  “Yeah, well this time ’round, we’ll be prepared.”

  One of Sam’s legs buckles. I squeeze him tight around his middle to keep him upright.

  “Not funny, Sam,” I say, gritting my teeth.

  His other leg collapses beneath him. I strain to hold him up.

  We fall together in a crumpled heap.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  An older man in double denim and dusty boots kneels at our side. “You alright, mate?”

  My pulse races, the sound of it rushing in my ears. “W-what just happened?” I mumble as I stare at Sam. His cheeks are washed of colour.

  He squeezes his eyes shut and snorts a breath out of his nose. “Too much wine,” he says through a chuckle.

  “Just take it easy, huh?” the denim cowboy says, helping Sam to his feet.

  “Fine,” Sam garbles.

  I look to the man. “Can you please hold him for a sec?” I jog over to the wheelchair, and push it over.

  Supporting Sam under his armpits, the man and I guide him into the chair. He coughs repeatedly once he’s seated and shakes his head.

  I kneel down in front of him and dust the dirt from his pants. “Sam, what happened just then? Did you hurt yourself? Are you dizzy? Do you feel unwell?” I lift each foot and position them on the metal footrests.

  He grits his teeth together. “Just the wine,” he says in a croaky voice.

  I thank the man for his assistance and wheel Sam beside a row of rectangular hay bales. I take a seat beside Sam and reach out and ruffle his hair. Whilst I don’t want the night to be over, I know in my heart Sam needs to be indoors, out of the cool night air. I don’t like the sound of that cough.

  “We need to get home. I’ll call Ben and ask him to come and get us,” I say after contemplating our options.

  “Nah, leave him. Just call an Uber,” Sam says, and leans his head forward. “It’ll cost five bucks or something.”

  Did he bump his head just now? “An Uber? In Willow Creek?” I chuckle at the thought. “We’ve got two cabbies in town, and they’ll be flat out like a lizard drinking tonight.”

  Sam concedes, and within five minutes, Ben is waiting for us at the pick-up point. I help Sam into the car and go to the first aid tent and swap the wheelchair for the walker. On my way back, I visit the woodfire stall, grab two pizzas, and walk back to Ben’s car.

  “What did ya get?” Sam asks as I get in the back seat.

  “Roast pumpkin, fetta, and basil. I figured you guys would be hungry before too long.”

  “If I ever see another pumpkin …” Sam teases.

  “Tomorrow, you might be spared,” I reply with a smirk.

  ***

  “You scared me tonight,” I say in a quiet voice as I climb beneath the covers, facing Sam.

  Sam stares at my face and then looks down at my silver charm necklace, which seems to holds his focus. “I’m good, Janie. Like I said. Too much wine.”

  I lift his head with my finger beneath his chin. “But you only had one.”

  “What can I say, babe? I’m a lightweight these days.”

  I force a heavy sigh out my mouth. “I think you should make an appointment to see the neurologist.”

  His body stiffens. “Has Ben been in your ear again?” he says with a certain grit in his voice that causes me to cringe. I won’t have it. I won’t let him ignore the fact that this is important. And he needs to get over whatever issue he has with his brother.

  “Sam,” I bark. “Will you get your head out of your arse for a second?”

  His brows jump closer to his hairline. “What?”

  “I said—”

  “Yeah, I heard you.”

  I tug at his earlobe. He grunts. “Well, now you need to listen. I want you to go to the doctor. Not Ben, who you have beef with, but me. It might be nothing. The appointment could be a waste of time, but you won’t know until you go.”

  “He’s just gonna spin the same shit as last time,�
�� Sam grumbles. “What’s the point? I’m trying to move forward, remember?”

  “I know you are, Sam, and the people who care about you want that too. You need the best care possible along the way. You need to get on board with that, Sam.”

  Sam stares through me as if I’m invisible and he’s searching for something way off in the distance.

  “Do you think it’s more than the wine that made you collapse tonight?” I ask.

  He blinks in quick succession and shrugs one shoulder. “Maybe?”

  I gulp down. “Maybe?” There’s something more to this—I know it. He needs to be looked at. “Make. The. Appointment,” I say in a deep robotic tone.

  “Fine,” Sam says through gritted teeth. A smile teases at his lips. “I’ll go see him.”

  Hope fills me from the inside. I’m getting through to him. “You promise?”

  His brows knit together. “Yeah, but what if it’s bad news?”

  I place my hand on his bare chest and revel as his heart beats against my fingertips. “Then we deal with it together. Simple.”

  “I love it when you get bossy,” Sam says, his voice husky. His hand shifts up the sides of my pyjama top.

  “Yeah, well you gave me cause to.”

  He tweaks at my nipple, causing it to pebble. “I should piss you off more often.”

  Sam’s hand explores down my stomach, and tugs at the waistband of my shorts. “Why are you wearing pyjamas?” he asks, as if the fact that I am is the most ridiculous thing in the world.

  “Um, I’m not exactly sure. Force of habit?” I lift the covers enough to confirm that Sam is already hard.

  “Well, get ’em off, Janie. I’ve got plans for us.”

  After tonight he still wants to get busy? “Are you sure? We don’t have to. I mean, you’re probably tired.”

  Sam rolls his eyes. “Don’t care. I’ll push through it. Now, deal with the PJs.”

  And he reckons I’m bossy. I peel off my top and shorts, and toss them on the floor. “Your brother is right next door,” I say in a quiet voice.

  “Then I’ll try to keep my screams to a minimum.”