Proving Grounds

 

 

ONCE—and once only—Sammy’s cousin Dustin tried to make a case for being the oldest grandchild, because technically Sammy was a step-grandnephew and not related by blood.

Dustin had spent that Christmas Eve watching everyone else open presents while he had to wait until last, because normally birth order determined who went first and Dustin had been trying to go before Sammy.

Tino’s mother, Grandma Stacy, didn’t make distinctions when it came to her grandchildren, and Sammy—who had never had a grandma or grandpa before—was her oldest and first grandchild always and forever.

Until now.

“So,” she said to Sammy as they watched Cooper doze in the armchair in the far end of the living room, “I understand he’s twenty-one too. You know what this means, don’t you?”

Sammy grinned at her. “It means Dustin finally gets his way and I’m not the oldest anymore.”

She laughed delightedly. “It does indeed. So he’s going to be watching the kids while you work your new job?”

Sammy smiled shyly and took another pull on his smoothie. Apparently Tino’s lament to his mother about Sammy’s little episode had resulted in about a gallon of protein smoothie being made and brought over to freeze. Life by milkshake—Sammy approved.

“He is. Brandon’s just as happy Coop doesn’t have to go back to construction—says he’s good at it, but Brandon worried about him every day.”

“Hmm.” Grandma Stacy took a sip of her coffee and regarded the dozing Cooper. “He needs worrying over, I’d say. I don’t think he’s going to trust all of this easily.” She’d already met and fussed over Felicity—had even brought her a gift of a new denim jacket trimmed with sequins and Hello Kitty, with tennis shoes to match. Felicity had beamed, accepting the clothes as easily as she’d accepted Grandma Stacy’s hugs and Grandpa Peter’s happy handshakes. Sammy had seen the look of apprehension on Cooper’s face—and in a way hadn’t blamed him. His injuries still hadn’t healed, and he was supposed to just accept that this new situation was his for the taking?

But Sammy knew the truth. Nobody in this room would ever turn Felicity or Cooper away again. That was saying something too. At the moment there were a lot of them, since Jacob had brought the five kids and Brandon and Taylor had ridden shotgun to help him since his wife was laid up on bed rest with the sixth.

The only way Felicity would be hurt would be if Cooper were to refuse all the love the combined Lowell-Grayson clan had to offer.

“He hasn’t had anyone,” Sammy said, remembering the look of wonder on his face after their kiss. “He’s… well, he’s shy. But he’d do anything for Felicity.” He grimaced, because he’d heard Channing and Tino talking quietly about this. “But I think we’re going to have to let them get settled for a little while longer before we can do anything to make it legal or permanent. The uncles are worried about somebody finding out that she’s not legally his foster kid. In fact, she’s not legally anything.”

Stacy nodded, pursing her lips, as though that had occurred to her. “Well, they need to do something about that, and if Cooper loves her, he’ll let them. That girl—she’s as open as a flower. Sunshine, good earth to grow her roots, she’s going to be amazing. But she’s not going to do that if she keeps getting plucked up and put somewhere else.” Stacy looked at Cooper again. “He should know that better than anybody.”

Sammy sighed. Yeah. Cooper wouldn’t trust in his good fortune for a long time, and Sammy, who was used to being able to make the world all better for the people in his life, wasn’t going to make up for those things he’d wanted from a family all by himself. His worry over Coop was derailed, though, when Stacy turned to him with questions.

“What about you and your new job—tell me about it?”

“Well”—he smiled—“I’m going to be teaching kids how to play music in an after-school program. Each kid signs on for fifteen minutes of piano a day if they want it. They’ll have an art teacher and a computer teacher and a general ed teacher. It’s designed to give them enrichment as well as just keep them out of trouble until five thirty when their parents come get them.”

“I understand it’s in a difficult neighborhood?”

God, Sammy loved his grandma. No fear for Sammy’s safety, just interest in his job. “Well, yeah. The school is sort of old and run-down, and the population is mostly on free or reduced-rate lunch. But”—he shrugged—“everybody loves music, right?”

The look on his grandmother’s face told him he was being inexpressibly dear and naïve. “Of course, my angel,” she said, squeezing his shoulders and kissing his cheek. “I just hope they love it enough to not break your heart.” She squeezed a little harder. “Speaking of which, do I need to give you a refresher course in the perils of anemia?”

Sammy grimaced. “No, Grandma. I promise—no chest pains, no body aches, no difficulty breathing. I forgot to eat and got a nosebleed—it happens.”

Stacy shook her head, for once truly upset with him. “Sammy, please. These things can change as you get older. Was this your only episode recently?”

Sammy looked away, because the truth was, he’d been depending more and more on the protein bars Tino insisted he keep in the car. He’d been blaming it on school and finding a job, but skipping a couple of meals shouldn’t have screwed him up that badly when all he was doing was sitting at the piano.

“No?” Stacy asked pointedly. “Have you told your uncles?”

“You know how they worry!” He was whining. Excellent. Score one for maturity.

“For good reason. When was the last time you saw your doctor, Sammy? You are a grown-up—you can’t depend on them to take you anymore.”

Oh. Okay, fine. That was a good point. “I’ll make an appointment tonight,” he promised. She scowled at him, and he pulled out his phone and made a notation. “See? It’s in my reminders. I promise.”

Her scowl lightened up fractionally, and she squeezed his shoulders again. “Sammy, my angel. You work so hard not to worry anybody. Don’t you know that this makes us worry more?”

Sammy laughed. “Well, that’s a no-win situation, Grandma. I don’t know what I can possibly do about that.”

“Well, you try your best, I’ll give you that. Call your doctor, Sammy. You—you are so much the heart of this family. You’re what brought your uncles together. You’re the darling of all the grandchildren. We need you here. Make sure that happens, okay?”

“Okay.” He winked. “But you know, I have applied for some of those scholarships for the touring performances from the college. You may have to do without me for a couple of months—even a year, if I get that one.” He hadn’t actually applied for that one, but Channing and Tino had been hopeful, so he just sort of didn’t mention that.

“A college tour? That’s wonderful! How does that happen?”

Sammy gratefully told her about the grants that had been written to have small college-level ensembles tour high schools during the summer vacation and other parts of the year in order to foster interest in music education. This interest used to be provided by “feeder” schools, but recent cuts in education had been so brutal that music at the college level was beginning to dry up. Some nice benefactors—Sammy suspected Channing was a big one—had given money and written grants for the state colleges with the strongest music programs to tour and to inspire districts to fight for more money, and kids to demand more than just computer programming in their education.

Music had saved Sammy’s life after he lost his mother. He believed that, just as he believed Tino and his family had helped as well. He wanted to give that gift to as many kids as he could.

Grandma Stacy listened avidly, her dark brown Italian eyes alight with interest and excitement, and when he was done, she called Grandpa Peter over so Sammy could explain it again. By the time he was done the second time, he was inundated with questions about when he would be going and how long he’d be gone—many of them from the children who expected to see him at every family gathering, because he was their Sammy and only their Sammy and nobody else would do.

“Guys!” he laughed, comforting Baby T, the youngest, who was clinging to his shoulder and whimpering. “There’s no guarantee I’ll even make auditions or the application process. And if I do, I won’t leave until June. And if I leave, I’ll definitely come back by the end of summer. I’m only a year away from my bachelor’s degree! I’m not going to stop now!” He didn’t mention that he wanted to go for his master’s. It was frustrating enough that he’d made it into some of the top music schools in the country and had chosen to stay in Sacramento instead. Between his health—which had been really poor by the end of his senior year—and his reluctance to leave his family, he’d told Channing that he didn’t care where he went, as long as he got the pretty piece of paper when he was done.

He was lucky Sacramento had a respectable music program, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t take five years because some of the classes were so hard to get into.

“Would we have to go if you leave?” Felicity asked, and all the other children fell silent, shocked by the question.

“No,” Sammy said immediately. He didn’t even have to look at Channing and Tino to know the answer to that one. “Felicity, honey, do you see Hope?” Hope was a pretty blonde college student standing near her mother, Carrie, while she talked to Brandon about her new accounting business.

“She’s nice,” Felicity said, looking at the girl with a little bit of hero worship.

“Well, her mom used to live in Cooper’s rooms with Hope. Her mom helped us take care of the house, and Hope and I went to school and activities together. Her mom got a new job, and Hope went away to school, but look who’s here for the weekend dinner.”

Felicity smiled and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “That could be me?”

Sammy swallowed and flicked a glance at Cooper, who was suddenly awake and paying close attention to everything he’d been saying. “Yeah, honey. Don’t worry if I leave, okay? Right now, everything works.”

The girl nodded, her chin wobbling, and Sammy crouched—Baby T still on his shoulder—and held out his arm. She ran in for the hug, and he embraced her fiercely, then smiled at the rest of the cousins. “C’mon, guys—group hug.”

He was surrounded by little bodies and some big ones, because Dustin was fourteen now and almost grown-up sized. Everybody pressed in, and Baby T woke up and looked around, batting big brown eyes.

“Big love,” she murmured, resting her head on Sammy’s shoulder again.

“Yeah,” he said, nuzzling her. “See, Felicity? Big love.”

 

 

LATER that evening, Cooper found him helping Grandma Stacy and Auntie Elena clean up the kitchen, since the housekeeper got weekends off.

“Sammy, can I have a word with you?” he asked and then led the way across the hall to his room.

Sammy followed, foreboding worming its way into his stomach. Cooper waited for him, standing at the foot of his bed, pacing a little. Sammy looked around the room, thinking about how bare these quarters looked compared to how personal Carrie and Hope had made them.

He wanted Cooper to have time and money to make them his too.

“You’re leaving?” Cooper accused, and Sammy grimaced.

“Just for the summer—”

“You said maybe a year!”

“Well, that was for Tino and Channing,” Sammy said, looking around like they might appear and yell at him. He lowered his voice. “They wanted me to apply for the year-long one, but….” He swallowed. “I just really wanted to graduate.” Thinking back on it now, he wondered—had he felt the changes in his body and worried? “I only applied for the summer tours—I….”

Cooper’s glare softened for a moment. “You what?”

“Cooper, I was an honor student, and my uncles are rich. Did you ever wonder why I’m not going to an Ivy League school?”

Cooper gaped at him, and Sammy felt like a first-class putz. But if Cooper was freaking out about him leaving, maybe this would put his mind at ease.

“I appreciate my family, Coop. I’ve had the thing where the person walked out the door and never came back. It sucked. I have Keenan and Letty—and they love me. I didn’t want to be the guy who walked out the door and just sent letters.” He swallowed because that wasn’t the whole truth, but God—after talking to Grandma, he wasn’t sure he was ready to talk about the whole truth. “So I applied to Sac State and stayed here. That’s why only a summer internship. That’s why no big push to get into Juilliard. I’m a big coward, okay? Channing and Tino wanted me to do the tour, so I said yes.”

“But… but you kissed me!” Cooper burst out. “You didn’t mention anything about leaving!”

“Well, it’s not for months, Coop! I assumed that if you still wanted to kiss me, you’d be willing to wait for a couple of months before I got back. I didn’t realize you were looking for reasons not to get close at all.”

“And I didn’t realize you were looking for excuses to stay home because you were scared!” Cooper shot back.

Sammy rubbed his chest against the cramping and tried to catch his breath. He couldn’t decide if the pain was physical or emotional, but he knew something in his body hurt.

“Oh,” he whispered. “I… I guess the kisses were wrong. You… you didn’t want me. I’m sorry.”

“Wait—Sammy—”

But Sammy couldn’t breathe, and he’d forgotten his vitamin supplement, and he might have eaten too much sugar, and he needed to call the doctor.

And he couldn’t wait around to see how wrong he’d been about trusting Cooper Hoskins and thinking Cooper was ready to trust him back.

 

 

HE managed to make it upstairs without attracting attention and was good to his word about calling the doctor. An appointment in two days—he’d have just enough time between school and picking up the kids.

He stayed in his room and pulled out his homework—he’d be up late anyway—and that’s where he was when Felicity crept into his room.

“Hiya, Phil,” he said, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know if I like Phil,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Maybe keep trying.”

Sammy grinned and vowed to think of other ways of shortening her name. Tino, Kee, Letty, Sammy—diminutives were a family tradition. The only one who didn’t fit was Channing, and he’d bemoaned the lack of a nickname since Sammy was very small.

“It’s a deal, City. What can I do you for?”

“Cooper’s sorry,” she whispered, her eyes glistening. “He was afraid—you know. That he’d made you mad. He thought he might have gotten us kicked out—”

“No. C’mere.” Sammy held his arms open, and Felicity came in for a hug. “Look, hon. Your brother and I, we’re sort of… we’re figuring out what kind of friends we’ll be. I thought we’d be one kind of friend. I think he wants to be another. But either way, we’ll still be friends, and you guys will still live here, okay?”

“So he didn’t make you mad?” she asked, making sure.

“He hurt my feelings,” Sammy said baldly. “But I don’t think he meant to. I think… I think trusting comes a lot easier to me than it does to him. I need to remember that in the future.”

“Does that mean you won’t trust him?” she asked, looking worried.

“It means….” Sammy rubbed his chest again, still not sure if the ache was real. “It means I’ll just protect myself better in case he doesn’t trust me.”

She looked puzzled, and he hugged her again.

“We’ll be fine—now go brush your teeth, City girl. Everybody left, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiled shyly. “Grandma Stacy was really nice. Do you think I can wear my new clothes to school?”

“Course. You’ll look so sharp.”

Her grin made his headache a little better, but his chest still hurt. As she slid out of his room, he was damned glad he’d made the doctor’s appointment.

And damned sorry he’d ever thought Cooper was ready for more kisses. Whatever was going wrong in his chest, it certainly wasn’t any more painful than the ache in his heart.

 

 

TWO days later he sat in the doctor’s office and watched as the man studied the blood workup he’d had taken the day before.

After a sigh, Dr. Richmond—Channing’s age, but sort of saggy with thinning hair—took a deep breath and stretched out his neck. Then he gave a kind smile. “Well, hell, Sammy. This isn’t what I’d hoped to see.”

Sammy bit his lip and remembered when Tino and Channing had sat in this room with him. He felt young and afraid and alone—and he missed having someone, anyone, sitting next to him to help him feel like he could handle whatever the doctor dished out.

“It’s not….” Sammy swallowed. “What’s bad?”

“Well, aplastic anemia is a strange creature, Sammy. We assume yours is inherited, but we couldn’t get your father’s medical records, so we don’t know for certain. In this case, your iron absorption is just not happening. I’ve upped your folic acid and B-12 supplements—you were mostly just taking iron—and I’ve got some dietary recommendations that I strongly suggest you take. Squash, kale, broccoli—and meat. Don’t forget meat. There are enzymes in meat you can’t always get in high-protein vegetables, so don’t fight me here.”

“Steak and squash. Got it.” Sammy smiled winningly, like he could beat anemia through congeniality.

“Good. Now that’s all going to work long-term. Right now….” He shook his head. “You’re pale, your respiration is fast—how’s your head?”

“Aching—but that just started today.” Shit. Sunday.

“Yeah—and it’s not going to get better. You’ve got signs of fatigue all over you—bags under your eyes, wandering attention. I’m inclined to admit you for oxygen and a blood transfusion, just to reboot your system and give the supplements a chance to work.”

“Admit me?” Sammy’s voice squeaked. Oh God no. “Dr. Richmond—you know my uncles. They’re going to lose their minds. And I need to go pick up kids in….” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to be in Roseville in an hour for Felicity or I’ll be late getting Keenan and Letty and—”

“Wait, wait, wait—didn’t you just tell me you had a full load at school and were starting a job? Sammy—you’ve been managing this condition for five years—what part of ‘no stress’ is running around town picking up kids!”

“Well, we have someone else lined up, but he’s still recovering from his own shit.” Like not talking to Sammy and trying not to be in the same room at the same time, even though they lived in the same house. “I don’t start work until next week. I promised I could help out until then.”

Dr. Richmond shook his head. “You were right—I do know your uncles. And they would want what’s best for you—”

“Please, Dr. Richmond? Please? Just… I don’t know. Give me the supplements and I’ll become a model patient. I’ll eat like a saint, I promise.”

Dr. Richmond closed his eyes. “Sammy, we both know exactly what that promise is worth. But I can’t tell your uncles—you’re over eighteen. You may be on their health care, but your treatment is confidential. I’ll give you a vitamin shot, and is there any day you can come in on an outpatient basis?”

“Well, Friday—but just this Friday. After this week, I’m sort of booked up with jobs… uh, I mean, job.”

Dr. Richmond didn’t seem like a powerhouse, but his glare was something special. “It had better just be ‘a job.’ Sammy, anemia shouldn’t put that much of a crimp in your life, but you have got to take care of yourself!”

“No, no—just one job. The other thing is practice. It’s more like play. Swear. Did you want me to come in?”

Richmond finished writing on his prescription pad, ripped it off, and gave it to Sammy. “You have an appointment at the treatment center across the street for eleven o’clock Friday. That gives you plenty of time to go take care of brothers and sisters and whoever lives in Roseville, but you need to be there, Sammy. I’ll be back in a moment with a B-12 shot and some more great vitamins to shove up your veins, but Sammy, if you don’t show on Friday, you may need iron therapy, and I gotta tell you, if you think a blood transfusion is a pain in the ass, iron therapy really sucks. So turn on your sense of self-preservation, eat some food, get some rest, and show up on Friday, okay?”

“Deal,” Sammy said, sagging against the wall in relief—and exhaustion. “I swear I’ll be there.”

 

 

HE barely made it to Felicity’s school in time to pick her up, but when he got there, she wasn’t waiting out front like usual. Feeling lead in every step, he dragged himself into the front office to ask where she was. The kindly looking sixtyish woman in the front office eyed him with a certain skepticism.

“And you are….”

“Her foster brother?” he said, smiling prettily because there was a certain truth to the words.

“Cooper Hoskins? She told us he couldn’t come because of a work injury. You would be…?”

“I’m Sam Lowell. Her foster family situation has changed. The paperwork is still coming through.” Oh yeah—Sammy had learned about bluffing from the best. “Why isn’t she outside?”

“Well, there was an altercation today involving a pair of shoes and a jacket. One of the other girls claimed she stole it, and I’m afraid Felicity didn’t take it that—”

“Those were a gift!” Sammy exploded. “They were a gift from my grandmother, to welcome her to the family. Where is she? Where is she?”

“Well, the principal is interviewing the two girls now, but we had no way of knowing Felicity was telling the truth—”

Sammy pulled out his phone. “You could maybe know Felicity. Have you even talked to her? Ever? Or did you just watch her come in and get her free lunch slip and make assumptions?”

“Well, Mr. Lowell, her home situation has obviously been in flux in the past. Yes, these last two years it’s gotten better, but those clothes were obviously something special, and we were worried that maybe—”

Sammy glared at the woman, waiting for her to get flustered and stop talking. “You were worried that maybe… what?”

In the back of his mind, Sammy thought this might be someone’s grandmother, someone who had seen a thousand kids, not all of them as good as Felicity, and who had learned to assume based on appearance.

But that was the part of Sammy’s head that ached the fiercest.

“Look, Mr. Lowell, it doesn’t matter what I think,” the secretary said, looking worried. “What matters is that after we called her ‘foster brother’”—and he could practically see the air quotes—“we realized that her foster family moved a long time ago. We had other students placed with those people, and they just closed up shop. So I don’t know who you are or who Mr. Hoskins is, but to have her suddenly show up in shiny new clothes after all this time of being attached to, apparently, nobody, is highly suspicious.”

Sammy scowled at her and shook his head. “Lady, I recognize that you’re doing your job, but you know what? Consider this can of worms officially open.”

He punched Channing’s personal number into the phone and connected.

“Uncle Channing? Yeah, it’s me. Look, Felicity’s school is keeping her because they think she stole her new clothes—yes, they’re stupid bigoted asses. I figured that out.” He took a deep breath, aware that the ache in his chest and his head, which had eased up after the doctor shot him full of vitamins, were both back in full force. “But they’re starting to ask questions—you know, those questions, and I need to get her now or I’m going to be late for Kee and Letty and….”

“Don’t panic, Sammy.” God, Channing always sounded so together. “Okay. Here—hold on a minute.” Sammy breathed into the pause and glared at… what was her name? Okay. Greta Chapman. School Secretary. Awesome. “Okay. Sammy, here’s the plan. Brandon is going to get Kee and Letty—he’s about ten minutes away from their school right now. He’s on it. You’re going to go see the principal now. I don’t care what they wanted you to think when you were at school, but he doesn’t get to block family members out of the room. We’ll be there with Clement Wainscott in an hour or less—you remember Mr. Wainscott?”

Sammy had vague memories of a custody hearing when he was eleven, as his father made a last bid to be in his life. “Yeah—he’s the one who finalized my adoption with you and Tino, right?”

“And Letty and Keenan too. We’ve got a plan in place. We need you to do one thing while you wait for us to arrive, and it might be the toughest job of all.”

Sammy’s stomach sank even further. “He’ll hate me,” he muttered. “He already hates me.”

“Well, hate you or not, Sammy, it’s his only option to keep Felicity in his life. We were going to try to give him time, but I think time may have just run out.”

“Wonderful.”

“Ain’t it? Now go to the principal’s office and get that kid out of there. She’s probably terrified.”

“So am I,” Sammy muttered as he hung up. But the thought of Felicity accused of theft, worried about getting taken out of her new home when she’d just gotten used to it, made him brave. He glared at Greta Chapman. “Where are they?” he growled, letting the throb in his head give him some added anger.

“They’re right down the hall, but you can’t go in there—”

“Watch me!”

Sammy stalked down the hall with the woman trailing at his heels and thought about how tight Felicity hugged him and how she was counting on him and Cooper and Channing and Tino to make her world all right.