“You’re right. What keeps me here is your fierce determination, your sassy wit.” A mischievous smile streaks across his face. “And your incredible presence in my bed.”
Samantha blushes.
“You are everything I’ve ever wanted. And I don’t want you to be our nanny forever though you are the best nanny Arabella has ever had. But you are too bright, too talented, to not go after what you really want. And I want to support you in that.”
Samantha looks down at her their hands. She has one more question but doesn’t know if she wants the answer.
“So, if it’s not my focus on career…” Her stomach feels like it’s doing gymnastics, but she continues, “is there someone else? Are you seeing someone else?”
Connor looks hurt, and Samantha is surprised by this expression on his face.
“I--,” he searches for words, “I can’t believe you’d think that of me.”
“Well, I don’t know what to think. You get these weird call at all hours of the day and night. It’s obviously the same person each time. And strangest of all, these are the only calls you will not take with me in the room. What the hell am I supposed to think?”
Connor’s hurt face melts into relief, and then he starts laughing quietly to himself, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Oh, my darling, my darling.” He looks at her again, now with happiness. “Sunshine, those calls aren’t some secret lover. They’re crazy rants from Marla.”
Samantha sees all the pieces fall into place. It makes perfect sense.
Connor continues, “She has been particularly unstable over the last few months. She’s calling me all the time going off about everything and nothing at all. You have to understand, she’s truly ill.”
“Then why do you leave the room to talk to her?” Samantha asks.
“Well, because it’s overwhelming. And I don’t want to worry you. Ironic, I know.”
“And that’s it? There’s nothing else? Seriously, Connor, this is the time to tell me if there’s anything else.”
Connor hesitates but finally says, “There is one more thing. Marla has gotten focused on you. She sees you as stealing her man and corrupting her daughter, and she calls partly to tell me these things.”
Samantha leans back with the weight of this. “I see,” is all she says.
“Marla has too much time on her hands. She’s never understood why I wanted a divorce, and I guess she’s never really gotten over it.”
“I guess that explains why she’s been particularly horrible to me from the start.”
“Indeed. But you’ve done nothing wrong, little girl. It’s not your fault that I married and divorced an unstable woman.” Connor takes a drink of his wine and continues, “But, I’d understand if this is too much for you. You’re young. You don’t need this kind of drama.”
Samantha looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “If you think she can run me off, you’re as crazy as she is,” she says, and they both break into laughter.
The rest of the meal is long and luxurious and lovely. After three hours, they summon the driver to return for them, with the plan to head to his city home to complete their making up. Standing out on the sidewalk, Connor looks at her adoringly, pulls her into him, and kisses her slowly, deeply, with his fingers wandering in her hair, savoring the wet heat of her mouth against his. He feels like he could spend the rest of his life kissing this woman.
Samantha puts her hand up to the hold the side of his face, they embrace even closer, and she lets out a little moan at the feeling of him probing deep into her mouth, flicking her tongue with a taste of what’s to come.
Suddenly a loud screech, incredibly close, zooms at them and someone is on top of them.
“YOU FILTHY WHORE, I WARNED YOU! I’LL END YOU, YOU SLUT!”
With a knife flying through the air, and screaming at the top of her lungs, Marla is on Samantha with animal strength.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A sharp pain and then heat, and then more pain is what Samantha feels. Marla’s knees dig into her body, keeping her from getting up. A moment later Marla is high above her, Connor and the driver holding Marla’s twisting and kicking body. She doesn’t look human, foaming at the mouth, crazy eyes, and torn clothes. She is like an animal pulled from a nightmare.
Someone from the restaurant has come out to tell them they saw the whole thing and police are on their way. The driver now has his arms wrapped around Marla, holding her in place. She has stopped twisting and is just muttering to herself. Samantha has a slit on her face, and her arm is pulsing out blood in two places. Connor is on is knees, using his belt to stop the bleeding. Samantha is in a daze. Everything happened so fast. She was kissing Connor, and suddenly there was Marla’s face, and now she’s on the ground looking up at Connor, who is white as a ghost. Her body feels so cold. She feels like she might be sick, and then total darkness.
***
Samantha wakes up to the beeps and clicking sounds of hospital monitors.
“Connor?” She asks for him, groggy still. She feels his hand squeeze hers as her awareness returns to her body.
“I’m right here, Sunshine. I got you.”
Connor is sitting at her bedside with a bloodstained shirt. His face shows he’s been through hell.
“Where’s Marla?”
Connor’s face turns dark. “Don’t worry about her. You’re safe now.”
“I...I feel strange. I’m so sleepy.”
“That’s the meds they gave you. You’ve been out for eight hours. She cut your arm pretty bad. And your face. But I had the best plastic surgeon in the city take care of your wounds. You’ll never know they were there.”
“Connor, I don’t care about the plastic surgeon. What the hell happened? How did she know where we were? Why do you still have that shirt on?”
“It was me. I’m how she knew where we were,” painful guilt paints his face as he continues, “She called me repeatedly on my way into the city, and I finally just lost it. When I was hanging up on her, I said I just wanted to enjoy my meal at Saison. I can’t believe I did something so obviously stupid. I never make mistakes like that. I put you in horrible danger. You lost so much blood.” Connor looks away for a few moments. “The truth is I did this. I’m the reason you’re in this hospital bed,” and with this Connor stands up. “I’m so sorry. I can’t put you in any further danger.” He kisses her hand and walks out of the room before Samantha can say anything.
Samantha is stunned. What just happened, she wonders, still partly sedated. A moment later, the reality of everything settles in. She can feel her wounds start to ache. But, the hurt she feels the most is the hole Connor just cut into her heart.
***
Connor doesn’t answer her calls or emails, but he sends a personal chef, a maid, and a nurse to help during her recovery. Weekly, Margaret brings Arabella over to visit her, and though seeing the little girl reminds her of Connor, her bright energy is refreshing, and Samantha is thankful to have her around. By the time Samantha’s wounds are healed enough to return to work, Connor is in Hong Kong. He supposedly has a business, but she knows better.
On her bed at the city house, she finds a mahogany box with all the tokens and mementos she’s given him. A pink and blue seashell from a weekend trip to Catalina Island. Photo booth pictures of them together when they took Arabella up to the Seattle house. A mock ad she’d drawn up that advertises his powerful shoulders as the cure-all for a bad day. A braided locket of her hair with a small yellow daisy tied into the ribbon. The wound in Samantha’s heart opens up all over again. Her chest feels like it’s caving in on itself like she is an earthquake shaking the world out of place. She slumps down on the bed and sobs like she hasn’t since her mother died. She cries all night.
The next morning she gets up and resolves to move forward, no matter what. She focuses on Arabella, and in the evenings she looks through job ads both in San Francisco and in the other major
cities across the country. She goes on this way for two months. The late summer heat grows unbearable in the city, and Samantha decides to take Arabella to the country house for a week. Arabella falls asleep in the car. Samantha carries her up to her bedroom. As she comes out of Arabella’s room, Connor walks out of his.
Both stunned, they stand there, staring at each other for a moment. Then, without a word, Connor turns around and walks down the stairs. Samantha is speechless. She stands there staring at the empty air where his body had been. A thousand thoughts swirl in her head, and she feels anger and hurt well up. How could he just walk away like that? Before her brain is conscious of the choice, her feet run after him.
He is halfway across the orchard by the time she sees him. He’s heading to the boathouse. She calls after him, but he keeps walking without turning around.
The boathouse door is shut. She stands in front of it for a few moments. Should I just walk away? Should I leave it at this? A box of returned treasures and an awkward silent showdown in the hallway? But, she just can’t and pushes the door open. Connor is winding rope into tidy bundles with his back to the door. The swift movement of his hands stalls for a moment at the sound of Samantha stepping inside and shutting the door.
Samantha pulls her shoulders back. She takes a breath, and says, “Connor, you need to speak with me. You can’t just run away from me like a child. We are a part of each other’s lives, at least for a little bit longer.”
Silence.
She continues, now feeling anger rise, “Do you think just because you’re avoiding me, I’m going to quietly slink away?”
Silence.
More emotion rises in her voice, “In one month I am leaving San Francisco for good.”
Connor stops winding the rope. He slowly puts it down on the table in front of him. He looks out through the window.
“CONNOR CLARK TURN AROUND AND LOOK AT ME, DAMNIT!” Her voice cracks at the end. All the sadness she’s been carrying collides with the anger of his behavior today. She wants to beat him senseless and cry in his arms, all at the same time. She holds back her tears.
Connor wipes away a single tear as he turns around to face her. Their eyes meet for the first time in two months. Even through his tough exterior, she can see his insides are like a sea thrashing in a storm.
“Where are you moving?” he asks gently.
Big hot tears roll down her face. She wipes them away quickly, stands a little taller, and maintains a normal speaking voice. “Chicago.”
“Why Chicago?”
“I got a job there. In advertising.”
He looks down at his feet and smiles. “Good for you,” he says genuinely. He looks back up at her. “Way to go, Samantha.”
“Yeah.” Samantha searches his face for understanding. “I don’t--” she’s looking for words. “I’m not--” she’s stuck with so much to say and no way to do it.
“I’m so sorry, Samantha. I never meant for you to get hurt.”
“Getting hurt is a part of life.”
“Your cheek looks great. No scar.”
“Is that the hurt you’re talking about?” she asks in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Who cares about my face! You ditched me.”
Connor takes a step forward, and with a raised voice says, “I didn’t ditch you. I was protecting you!”
“Oh please!” Samantha says with anger, “There were other choices where you could have still protected me from Marla without totally abandoning me. No, what you did was get freaked out and consumed with guilt, and then you left me. Literally in a hospital room.” Samantha takes a step forward and is gesturing strongly with her hands. She has been holding this in for so long, and her face shows it. “Why did you even get out at the hospital? Why didn’t you just slow the car down by the entrance and roll me out?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Samantha.”
“I AM NOT RIDICULOUS!” she shouts. She takes a breath, and she continues more calmly, “I am not ridiculous. I am bright and focused and funny and I have legs that run all the way down to the floor, Mr. Clark. And I do not deserve to be brushed aside with a chef and some maid service as a consolation prize.”
“No, you don’t,” he mumbles.
“What was that?” she prods.
“I said, no, you don’t,” he says and looks her straight in the eyes.
They look at each other for several moments. Connor looks like he’s barely holding something in. He continues, “No, you’re right, you don’t deserve this. Any of it. I just don’t know how to fix it. I’ve done the best I can.”
“Do better,” she commands.
He looks at her with some surprise, almost delight. After a moment of considering her, he continues, “How can someone so small, so fragile, carry such power? And, such power over me?”
“What are you talking about? I obviously don’t have any power over you. I can barely get you to talk to me--”
“I love you, Samantha,” he says, cutting her off. “I love you. I am in love with you. I love you so damn much I can hardly breathe sometimes.”
Samantha is speechless. He’s never spoken these words.
Connor continues, “Do you think walking away from you was easy for me?” His words are growing more urgent. He takes another step closer to her, and now they only stand four feet apart. “No! It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. In my life. And remember, I was once married to Marla!” He takes another step. “But you, you are the most amazing, most wondrous thing to happen to me in a long time, and when I saw you lying on the ground, blood spilling out everywhere, and then you lost consciousness,” he closes his eyes with the pain of the memory, “there was a moment when I thought I’d lost you. I thought I had been part of killing you.”
Samantha finds her voice again, “But you weren’t! Not only was it not your fault, I am still here. I am still alive. That’s because of you.”
“But, I am the one who led Marla to you in the first place!”
“Connor, listen to me carefully.” She takes a step toward him, and continues slowly and deliberately, “Marla is mentally ill. She is unstable, violent and, as the police tell me, is now locked away at a very posh mental hospital. Indefinitely.” She takes another step closer, and they are now standing so close another body couldn’t fit between them.
Connor looks down into her eyes.
Samantha continues, more quietly now, “This was not your fault. Even with telling her where you were going to be. It was not your fault. It was the work of a madwoman.”
She searches his eyes.
“Connor,” she begins and searches for words, then continues softly, “I love you too.”
His face breaks into disbelief, into gratitude, and finally into abandon. Connor grabs Samantha’s waist and kisses her passionately like he’s starving for her lips. They grab at each other--hands reaching into hair, pulling at the backs of heads, cupping faces, with the moans of desperation spilling out of them. Connor lifts her up, and she wraps her legs around his waist, as he pushes her up against the wall. Fused together, they are a fire reignited and blindingly bright. Long and deep, melting into each other, they finally pull away just enough to look into each other’s eyes. They laugh a little and gaze with awe. It is such a relief to have each other again.
After a moment, Connor says, “Don’t go. Don’t move two time zones away.”
“I don’t want to go, Connor,” she says reluctantly, “but it’s also a really good job. And in my field.”
“So stay. Stay and take a better job.”
“I already tried to find a job here. It’s just not happening.”
“Y’know, I happen to have my own advertising department, ” he says with a smirk.
“I can’t just take a job because I’m your girlfriend.”
“Then take the job because you’ve earned it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember that shoulders ad you m
ade for me? I showed it to my head of advertising.”
“You what?!” Samantha exclaims.
“I showed it to her, and I’m not sorry,” he’s beaming now. “She was intrigued and asked to see more. So, I sent her the link to your portfolio.”
“You didn’t!”
“Of course I did,” he says proudly. “She saw what I see. Incredible talent and creativity. She said as soon as I’m ready to give up my superstar nanny, she’s ready to hire you.”
Samantha squeals with glee and then kisses him wildly. They lose themselves in each other. Connor pushes the rope aside and sits her on the table, and they begin peeling each other’s clothes off.
Forever Together Page 37