Another week goes by and nothing. No improvement with Zinnie and no luck locating Sam.
There’s a knock on the office door and Finn enters.
“Poppy is at school.” He took her this morning. I wanted to walk with Zinnie. She’s really struggling. The therapist keeps encouraging me, telling me that she will make it through this, but when someone you love is hurting, days feel like years.
“Thanks,” I nod, pulling up my email. “Maybe I should look into a nanny.”
There’s a knock on the door. “No. Don’t start second guessing yourself. We can all help. The girls don’t need anyone new right now.”
“Mr. Nelson, there’s a Mr. Thomas to see you.”
“Send him in,” Finn instructs. “Blake.” He shakes his hand and peers behind him.
“School is back in session. West is teaching.”
“Ah. Got it. West said the honeymoon was nothing short of spectacular.”
“It’s true. On an island with only the love of your life and servants is not a bad way to spend two weeks.” He smiles like a man who knows love, and I find myself feeling a little bitter. “You could have called me, though. I would have helped from there until we got back to the states.” Finn wants to hire Blake to help us locate Sam.
“I already know where she is,” he says.
I stand up so quickly I almost knock over my chair. “Where is she?”
“She is staying in the apartment below ours. She met with Emme several days ago. Emme hired her and offered her a place to stay until she is back on her feet.”
“Why hasn’t she left a money trail? We’ve been looking for her for a week.”
He shrugs. “Couldn’t say. Maybe she was using cash? Maybe she doesn’t have credit cards. Either way, she’s not missing. She’s hiding in plain sight.”
“Well, at least we know she’s not alone,” Finn says.
But she is, I think.
The day rolls by at an excruciating pace. I want to go to her, to bring her home, but the unknowns keep me grounded. The girls are struggling, but we’ve finally found a groove this week. Zinnie spoke for the first time in a long time. She’s still quiet and withdrawn, but she’s trying to move forward. When I attempted to broach the subject of Sam this past weekend, she sobbed until she fell asleep.
“It’s time.” Quade enters the office.
“What’s time?” I murmur, focused on the email in front of me. We have some things going sideways with our latest project.
“It’s six.”
“Is it?” I glance at my watch. “I need to get to the apartment to pull dinner together. Plus, Zinnie has a school project due next week. I told her I would work on it with her tonight.”
“I mean. It’s Tuesday. At six,” Quade says as the lift dings its arrival.
“Quade.” I groan at his implication. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“The girls need everyone.”
He’s right, of course. They do. I close my computer, jotting down some notes for when I log in later.
When we enter the apartment, it’s like a head on collision. There’s music playing, laughter, and the girls are both smiling. It’s a little forced, but it mimics the love that was so evident here just weeks ago. It’s enough of a reminder that my chest constricts, and I’m not sure I can breathe. I excuse myself and dash to my bedroom to gain a moment of distance. With my back against the door, I try my best to calm my distress. There’s a push on the door and I’m propelled forward. It takes Finn about a tenth of a second to assess the situation. Kicking the door closed, his arms wrap around me. It’s too much. My brother’s unconditional love pushes the last of my resolve and it breaks everything within me.
Finn’s hand rubs up and down my back, soothing me. I gather his shirt in my fists as the pain of my sobs burst forth for the first time since this has happened. I miss Sam. It’s like a death. One minute she was in my life and the next she was gone. “I don’t know how to put the girls first and be the man I need to be for Sam.”
I don’t. I know the girls are my number one priority, and no matter how hurt I know Sam is, I know she wholeheartedly agrees. She loves the girls like they were her own. She will always choose to do what is best for them. Even if that means she has to stay away.
“I promise it’s going to work out,” he assures me. “It’s just taking longer than you want it to.” He holds me until he’s sure I’m ready to be released. “Wash up. Dinner is ready.” He leaves me with a squeeze on my shoulder.
I wash my face and make sure I hide any evidence of despair.
“What’s for dinner?” I ask, attempting to sound cheerful. I’m surprised I pull it off.
“I saved a seat for you,” Poppy says. Colin is on the other side of her, trying to teach her to twirl her spaghetti against a spoon. I kiss the top of her head and thank Grace when she passes me a plate of my own.
Sam’s friends engage Zinnie as often as possible. She likes to talk about her fashion internship. It’s the only thing she’s shown excitement for since the fallout. Everyone tries, but dinner is a struggle. The empty chair is a painful reminder of the gap in our lives. Dinner cleanup is assigned, and Colin makes a show of wanting to be the one to read to Poppy and put her down.
“Don’t tell Poppy, but there’s dessert,” Grace says, putting a cake on the table.
“While we have our dessert, I wanted to talk to everyone,” Charlotte says quietly. “About Sam.”
“Charlotte,” I say as gently as possible.
“It’s okay,” Zinnie says. “Say what you want to say.”
“You and I both know there’s more to this than meets the eye.”
Zinnie’s eyes widen, and Quade moves his seat next to her, his arm wrapping around her.
“What is this, an intervention?” she asks tentatively.
“Should it be?” Charlotte asks. “What’s going on, Zinnie?”
“You mean other than Sam lying to me and causing me to break my promise to my parents? Oh, I don’t know. Not much.”
“Careful,” Pierce chastises her, and I almost correct him, but I trust my friend to know what is right and wrong here.
“It just doesn’t make sense to me,” Charlotte continues. “You’re a smart girl with a big heart. We’ve given you space to come to this on your own, but now I’m not sure that was the right decision. Because you’re hurting, and you’re not getting any better.”
Zinnie starts to argue with her, but Charlotte doesn’t give her the chance.
“So, I’m going to give you some background. About me. Sam and I graduated high school together. I was a foster kid. I didn’t live with Sam’s family, but I might as well have. My foster family wasn’t abusive, just neglectful. I could be gone for days before they even noticed. Most of the time, I was at the Abbott’s.
“Sam’s family was like watching your favorite TV show. There was this banter between them, they had their own language. God, I loved being there. Eventually, I learned their language. It’s something Sam and I still have today. Eventually we grew from two to four with Zoe and Grace. Then a few months ago it grew from four to eleven. With you all.”
Charlotte pauses for a moment as if deciding something. I have no idea what she is about to say next, and even though it seems wrong to hear this from someone besides Sam, I know whatever she is about to tell us is going to give me insight into the woman I love. And right now I’m desperate for any connection I can get.
“Sam and I both applied to NYU. We got in on scholarships. When you are part of the foster system, you don’t receive financial support after the age of eighteen. Sam’s family had the basics, but that was about it. They struggled. Lived paycheck to paycheck like most families do. We roomed together and that’s how we met Zoe and Grace.” She points to her friends.
“I hit on her the first day of class,” Zoe laughs, taking a sip of her beer.
“Sam or Charlotte?” Zinnie asks, shocked by her admission.
“Both,” she smiles.
“Sam excelled in her classes. Just like everyone at this table is drawn to Sam, it was the same then, too. Sam never met a stranger. Everyone loved her. So, when it came time for her twenty-first birthday, there was a long line of people wanting to celebrate with her.
“The problem was, her family always celebrated their birthdays together. Her mom always made it a big deal, even for my birthday. They called, but we had talked Sam into staying in the city. The plan was that we would party, I would be the designated driver, and we would drive home in time to surprise her mom the next morning. Celebrate one day late.
“Sam’s birthday was a Thursday that year. We all decided to go out Thursday night and celebrate. Our friend Kathryn from high school was at Columbia and decided to meet us to party, then catch a ride from us to surprise her mom for a long weekend.
“We danced, partied, kissed boys…and girls,” she adds, glancing to Zoe.
“And I met a boy.” Charlotte looks at Zinnie. “A boy I wanted to impress. I had been into in him for a while, but didn’t think he knew who I was. When he asked if he could buy me a drink, I agreed. I was worried if I said no, he would get bored and move on. The more we danced, the more I drank.
“Sam as it turned out, only had a couple of shots at the beginning of the night. By the time we secured the rental car, she was sober enough to drive. So, I fell asleep in the backseat, and Kat slept up front.”
“She was drunker than she realized,” Zinnie says with disdain.
“Nope. She was sober. But a friend of ours sent her a belated birthday text and she glanced at her phone. I woke up in a hospital a week later. Kathryn was killed instantly. Sam was covered in bruises, but that was it. All three of us had to be cut from the car. The police told her they would contact her family, but she had to go to the ER to get checked out. Her family would meet her there.”
The pain on Charlotte’s face is more than I can bear. The thought of what she and Sam endured splits my heart in two. I go to stand, to move near her, but before I can, Pierce is holding her and kissing the top of her head. Tears slide down her face.
“It wasn’t until it was time for the hospital to discharge her that she was told. The car she hit was her family’s. They were on their way to surprise her in the city since she wasn’t coming home. They all died instantly, except her brother, who died an hour before she was told.”
The room is silent. I had no idea. As horrific as the story is, I’m not sure what Charlotte’s intentions are. I don’t think Zinnie lacks empathy for Sam. They share a loss that few understand.
Charlotte clears her throat, “I’m guessing you are wondering what this has to do with you.”
Zinnie doesn’t answer, but she’s listening intently.
“The stories are different, but I can’t help for wondering if there are two commonalities.” She motions between Zinnie and herself. “Us.”
“If I had kept my promise, I would have been the one behind the wheel. I was the denominator that changed everything. I started the domino effect. When I watch you and listen to you, I see myself in you.”
Zinnie looks at her, tears flowing down her face.
“I was being a brat,” she says wiping her nose. “I was mad because my friends were all hanging out that night. Mom and Dad couldn’t find a babysitter, so they made me stay home to keep Poppy.” She pulls at the tissue in her hand. Her eyes shift down. “I threw a fit when they said they were going to stay a little later. So, they left.” She looks at Charlotte. “They were on the road because of me.”
“And Sam was behind the wheel because of me.”
No one says a word. It’s as if a physical weight had been removed from Zinnie’s shoulders.
“Keep going,” Grace says gently to Charlotte.
“When I was released from the hospital, I was grieving the loss of the Abbotts and Kathryn. The funerals happened while I was still in the hospital. I thought maybe if I had gone I might have some closure. I don’t know. Sam visited me every day. Slept in a chair next to my bed every night.
“The community wasn’t as forgiving. Especially once Mrs. Yates started spewing her hatred. She had lost her husband just six months before. Kathryn was her only daughter, and she couldn’t handle a second loss.
“I mean, Christ, she was 21 and a day. A child herself. Accidents happen. She shouldn’t have picked up her phone, but how many of those people do the exact same thing every day? And to sit in judgement of her.
“Like I said, her family didn’t have a lot of money. They didn’t have health insurance or burial insurance. Sam had to pay to bury them. Because she was ticketed for failure to maintain control of an automobile, her car insurance wouldn’t pay any hospital bills. She had to pay for the care her brother received. My stay and her visit. The state charged her for the emergency services, and even though the courts ruled she didn’t have to pay damages to Mrs. Yates, she did have to pay Kathryn’s burial costs. By the time all was said and done, Sam owed a little more than three-hundred-thousand dollars. She had to give up her scholarship and go to work to pay the debts she owed.
“Sam has more than paid her penance. And I don’t mean just the money. What you saw at the restaurant that day was the hurt and grief of a woman who never sought help to deal with her loss. She will always blame Sam. It doesn’t matter that I know for a fact the only reason Kathryn went home with us was because her mom constantly made her feel bad for leaving her there after they buried her father. It doesn’t matter that Kathryn could have easily offered to drive. She could have stayed awake. She knew Sam was as tired as we were. There’s always someone to point the finger at. We can always play the ‘if only’ game. But you can’t, Zinnie, it will tear you apart.”
“How did you get better?” Zinnie asks her, like a drowning man searching for a buoy.
“Sam,” she says simply. “I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt I was feeling. So, I jumped on the bandwagon with everyone else. I mean, it’s hard to take responsibility for your part when you are blaming others, right? But Sam knew. She heard I was drinking more than I should have, and she showed up to my room, knocked on my door, and told me to get over myself. That dominos are dominos, and they are going to fall, whether you knock them over or someone else does. We are all affected by decisions made around us every day. We can’t control life. We can plan and influence it, but there will always be things truly out of our control.”
“You make it sound like Sam is okay. I don’t think she’s okay.”
“She’s a work in progress,” Zoe says. “Sam did the only thing she could do. She put one foot in front of the other until she found a pace that worked for her. She’s never told a soul about her family until she visited their burial sites with you. You girls, and Walt, changed her.”
“Sam wanted you to forgive the man who killed your parents,” Charlotte explains, “because she knows what it feels like to hate someone. She hated herself for a long time. Counseling helped. We helped. Finn helped a ton when he hired her, but, ultimately, she had to let it go. I hated myself, too. Jesus, I had so many regrets, but Sam refused to let me wallow in them. She forced me to let it go.” Charlotte’s expression saddens more. “But with her, even though she had to forgive herself, I think there is a part of her that isn’t sure she deserves happiness. It’s why the three of us where so relieved to hear she didn’t give up until she wasn’t given a choice. For the first time since the accident, she fought for what she wanted. Forgiveness is for you, not the other person. Without it, you end up like Mrs. Yates. Driven by anger and hatred.”
“What do you mean Sam didn’t give up until she didn’t have a choice?” Zinnie asks.
“Sam came by every day for over a week to try to sort this out,” I tell Zinnie. “She didn’t stop until I told her she had to. You weren’t able to differentiate Sam from the man who took your parent’s lives. I made a promise to never put you in harm’s path. Sam was bringing you too much pain.” The last part of that sentence makes me nauseous, because I know that is the last thing Sam would ever want.
Zinnie doesn’t say anything. There’s no revelation on her part. She just absorbs what Charlotte told her. Tears slip down her face, and she asks if she can be excused.
“Yes, sweetheart,” I answer, and we watch her leave. Her shoulders slumped with carrying the weight of the world.
“Thanks for coming over tonight,” I tell everyone. “It means a lot to the girls.”
“We’re not finished,” Zoe says. “That was for Zinnie. Now, we have words for you.”
“Zoe.” I run a hand down my face. I look like I’ve aged ten years in the last few weeks. I feel it, too.
Quade takes the lead. “She’s the love of your life, and you just let her go.” Clearly Sam and I weren’t doing as well of hiding it as we thought we were. Honestly, that’s the least of my concerns.
“Jesus Christ, don’t you think I know that?” I yell louder than intended, lowering my voice so I don’t disturb the girls. “I know that. I didn’t just let her go. I had to. I made—”
“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You made a promise,” Zoe interjects. “It’s a promise you shouldn’t have made. You honestly think those girls are better off without Sam? Giving into Zinnie is not what is best for her. She has to work through this. Sam loves those girls like they were her own.”
“How is she?” I ask.
“Oh, you know. Someone stood up in front of a crowd and screamed aloud the thing she hates most about herself. She lost the only family she’s known since the loss of her own. She got kicked out of her apartment. Lost her job. And when I ask her about it she says that you were only doing what you know to be right, and we should cut you a fucking break. So, you know,” Zoe shrugs, “she’s peachy.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it for him,” Quade says. “She looks like her fucking heart has been ripped from her body.”
“You’ve seen her?” I ask, ignoring his last statement. “When did you see her?”
Quade raises a brow. Shit, I’ve walked right into it. He can hear the jealousy in my voice.
“I’ve spent time with her every day,” he goads. “Someone had to. You and Finn just dropped her.”
“You’ve been with her this whole time? You didn’t think that was something I needed to know?”
“You had the best fucking woman, and you deserted her.” He stands to leave then looks back to me. “I once heard Jenny’s dad tell Everett that the greatest gift he could give his daughters is to love their mother. Fix this.”
“Or?” I bite back, still unreasonably pissed he’s been with Sam every day.
“Or bro-code be damned man.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, I’ll do everything in my power to make her happy. I mean, if it’s not me, it’s going to be someone right? At least with me, you’ll know she’s taken care of.” His eyes darken. “Her hair across my pillow. Her beneath me.”
“Quade,” Finn warns, but Quade is not to be deterred. He leans his closed fist against the table.
“My hands on her body. Skimming her hips before I make her mine. My name on her lips, when she—”
The chair I’m sitting in falls to the floor as I lunge at him, drawing up short when I’m pulled back by Pierce’s arms. Quade doesn’t so much as flinch.
“You fucking stay away from her or I’ll rip your fucking heart out!” I roar.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and I think it must be to keep from punching me.
“Finally,” he says. “This is the Walt I know.” He goes to leave but turns around to make one point clear. “I didn’t say all of that to bait you. It’s a picture of what the future looks like. Fix this or step the fuck off.”
Pierce pats my chest a couple of times to calm me down. “Where is she?” I ask.
No one answers. Instead they stare at me likely wondering if I am to be trusted with her heart again.
“If I have to ask again, it will get ugly,” I promise.
“She’s on a business trip,” Grace offers.
“So, let me get this straight.” Zoe leans back in her chair, her arms folded. “You’ve had, what? An epiphany?”
“Well, yes,” I answer.
“What’s changed? Don’t go after her because you don’t want Quade to have her. Don’t go after without knowing what you are doing.”
“Tell. Me. Where. She. Is.”