CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
After hearing from Sam and confirming that he can meet us out at the airport hotel in the next two hours, and that he does indeed still want to go back to his brother’s apartment in Manhattan with Sadie, I use a chunk of my savings to purchase three airplane tickets to New York City, leaving the next day. I could probably call for the private jet again, but I don’t like the feeling of owing the band any more than I probably already do for that last trip.
There are flights departing today, but Sam is going to be mentally exhausted, and Sadie has been playing all day. I decide it would be better for them to have a quiet evening together before we go on such a stressful trip. He can take the time to decompress from the funeral, and Sadie can forget about the scary doorbell that rang earlier today.
Sadie and I are resting on one of the queen beds in the hotel room when there’s a knock at the door. She doesn’t hear it because she’s zonked out. I get up quickly to answer it. Looking through the peephole, I find Sam standing there. He’s wearing a suit, and although his swollen, red eyes tell me he’s been crying, he’s still pretty damn stunning. Holy hell. How am I not going to have sex with him now?
“What’s the secret password?” I ask, stalling so I can get control of my sex drive.
“Weirdo beardo.”
I open the door and lean on it, smiling. “I like that suit.”
“I’m glad to hear that, because I bought this for you.” He holds up a white paper bag with black handles.
When I reach out to take it from him, he grabs me around the waist, kissing me before letting me have it. Shivers go up and down my spine, but then he’s in the room, leaving me behind to shut the door.
“What’s this?” I ask, holding up the long-sleeved black dress I find inside the bag.
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I figured we could go out to dinner tonight.”
“We have Sadie, though.” I follow him into the room.
He stops at the foot of the bed, looking down at her. “I know. There’s a dress in there for her, too.”
I reach inside and pull out another outfit. This one is purple with a fluffy skirt.
“Is there any particular reason why we’re getting all dressed up?”
He shrugs. “I guess I didn’t want to be the only one.”
I get it now. He’s tired of feeling alone and he needs a connection. I put the bag on the bed and hold the dress against me. “How did you know my size?” It’s not a dress I would have bought for myself, but I have a feeling Amber would approve.
“I asked Patty.”
I place the dress on the bed and put my hand on his arm. He’s still staring at his daughter, almost as if he’s mesmerized by her tiny form under the covers. “Did everything go okay today?” I ask.
He finally looks away and runs his hands through his hair as he sighs. “It was rough, but we got through it.”
“Did a lot of people come?”
His eyebrows go up as he nods. “Surprisingly, yes. I would say there were about . . . I don’t know . . . fifty or sixty people there? It’s more than I expected. She’d alienated a lot of people toward the end, but they forgave her.” He pauses. “Thanks for arranging everything. It was great. Really perfect.”
“I was happy to do it. And I’m glad to know a lot of people came, too. That’s nice. Nice for you and for her.”
Sam looks around the room. “So, you really hated my apartment that much?” He slides his jacket off and places it on the bed.
“Not exactly.” I glance at Sadie. She hasn’t moved, but I don’t trust that she’s not listening; she’s pretty sly. “Can we talk outside for a minute?”
“Sure.” He puts his hand on my lower back and escorts me to the foyer. “What’s going on?”
I wait until we’re outside the room with the door only slightly ajar before I respond in hushed tones. “Someone came to the door of your apartment today, and I didn’t get a chance to see who it was before they left, but it really scared us.”
“Why? Did they do or say something?”
“No, not really. But they kept ringing the doorbell and banging on the door over and over, and Sadie was pretty freaked out about it.”
“She was scared, huh?”
“No, not just scared. Freaked.”
He frowns in concern. “What do you mean? What did she do?”
“She told me not to answer it because it could be the Bad People. And then she hid in the closet. She told me her mommy taught her how to do that.”
Sam stares at me for a few seconds and then slowly closes his eyes, shaking his head. “I guess it was worse than I thought.”
“What was?”
He hisses out his frustration before answering. “I was talking to some people at the memorial service. Apparently, that guy Drake was a lot more present in her life than she led me to believe he was.”
Sam has just confirmed my worst fear—that it was probably Drake at the apartment today. I’m so glad we left when we did. “You think he came around Madison’s place on a regular basis?”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he did. I always thought he did it when Sadie wasn’t there—that’s what Madison always told me—but now, I’m not so sure. I always believed Maddy when she said she kept him out of Sadie’s life, but I shouldn’t have.”
“You think she was lying?” Why would she lie? Maybe because Sadie is Drake’s biological daughter and Madison thought he should be allowed to be around her? A shiver of fear runs through me again, imagining that Sadie will never be free of him.
“Yeah.” He sighs with sadness. “She was an addict. Looking back now, I’m pretty sure she lied to me about almost everything. I knew about some of it but not all of it.”
I pull him in for a hug. “I’m so sorry. That’s not a nice thing to find out about her at her funeral.”
The door slowly opens, and Sadie is standing there with her hair a mess and her face puffy from sleep. “What’s a funeral?”
It feels like my heart has jumped up into my chest and blocked my throat. I can hardly breathe.
Sam points to the inside of the room. “Back in bed, young lady. I need you to take a nap so we can go out to dinner together soon.”
“I already did. What’s a funeral?” She reaches up and scratches her head. She looks like a life-size doll, so sweet and innocent.
Sam pushes the door open all the way and herds her into the room. “Go on inside and I’ll tell you.”
I follow them in, dreading the conversation they’re about to have. What’s he going to tell her? The definition of a funeral in a general sense or the reason for this particular funeral? Am I going to witness the moment this sweet little girl finds out her mother has died? I can think of a thousand other things I’d rather do than that, but of course I’m not going to leave. If Sam decides that now is the time to have this conversation with his daughter, I’m going to support him. I just wish I could do it without feeling like I was going to throw up.
“Why don’t you sit on the bed, and Daddy will help you put on your new dress?”
“I have a new dress?” A small smile appears on Sadie’s face.
Now I see the real reason for Sam’s shopping trip. He told me before how much he hates shopping, but he’s hoping he can soften the blow of bad news with some frills and lace. My heart melts a little at his attempt.
“Yeah. I bought it for you today. It’s purple.”
She pouts. “But I like pink.”
“But your second-favorite color is purple, right? So, I got you a purple one because they were all out of pink.” He removes it from the bag.
She looks at it, jumping on the bed in anticipation. “Okay. I do like purple.”
He holds it up to her. “What do you think?”
She stops bouncing and presses it against her tummy. “It’s pretty fabaluss,” she says, nodding seriously.
“I thought it was pretty fabaluss too when I saw it.” He glances up at me and winks before turning his attention back to his daughter. “Ready to take off those dirty, stinky clothes and hop into the bath first?”
“I probably need about two or three or four baths,” she says, rolling her eyes and sighing dramatically. “I was playing in the dirt a lot today.”
“How about if Emerald goes and draws that bath for you while you and I have a little talk?”
“Okay.” She looks up at me. “Not too hot. Hot water is dangerous for childrens.”
I don’t want to say that I run out of the room, but I do move pretty quickly. Sam is giving me an escape hatch, and hell yes, I’m taking it.
Fine . . . I’ll admit it; I’m afraid. I’m afraid of the emotion. I’m afraid of the pain these two are going to suffer together. I lost my father before I even knew I had one. In comparison, that was easy. I can only imagine what it would be like to be told that my parent, who I’d known about and loved all my life, was suddenly gone. I don’t even like to think about one of my mothers passing away. I know it’s going to happen someday, obviously, but hopefully not for a very long time. I’m not going to handle it well, that’s for sure. Yeah . . . it’s better that I hide in the bathroom when Sam breaks the news to Sadie; I won’t be any help to either of them in there if I’m blubbering like a baby.
I focus on filling up the bathtub and making some bubbles with the shower gel that came with the room. When I was little, I loooved me some bubble baths. Maybe lacy dresses and bubbles will help ease Sadie’s pain. I’m willing to try anything.
I hear crying in the other room. And as much as I want to stay away, I step out and stand silently in the little hallway between the front door and the bedroom. I don’t want them to think I don’t care.
Sadie is standing next to the bed with tears running down her cheeks, and Sam is on one knee in front of her.
“But why?” she asks.
Sam’s voice cracks. “I don’t know. I guess God decided that he wanted her back early.”
“But doesn’t God know that I need her here? I’m too little to be alone.”
Tears rush to my eyes as my heart breaks for her. Every little girl needs her mama; she’s right. This is so unfair for all of them.
Sam tries to explain. “You’re not alone, sweetie; you have me, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“But I need my mommy too. Doesn’t God know that?”
“Yes, God knows that, but sometimes people are so sick, they just can’t stay here anymore.”
“My mommy was sick.” Sadie says it like a statement, not a question. Maybe she knew.
“Yes, she was. She was very, very sick. But she’s not anymore. Now she’s really healthy.”
Sadie sniffs, sounding hopeful. “Then maybe she can come back if she’s not sick anymore.”
Sam wipes the tears from her cheeks. “That’s not how it works, baby girl. Once someone goes to heaven, they can’t come back here.”
“Maybe I’ll go there and be with her,” Sadie says, more tears streaming down her cheeks. “So she won’t be alone. Mommy doesn’t like to be alone.”
Sam shakes his head, pressing his lips together. His chin is trembling, making his beard move too. “No, baby,” is all he manages to get out.
Sam isn’t able to say anything else, and the look on his face compels me forward. “She’s not alone,” I say, moving toward them.
Sadie looks up at me. “She’s not?”
I bend down to look her in the eye. “No. There’s all kinds of people and animals there waiting for her.”
“What people?”
I look at Sam. “Well, her mommy and daddy?”
Sam nods, joining in. “Yeah. And her brother, your Uncle Hank who died last year, remember?”
She nods and then turns her attention to me. “What animals?”
I open my eyes wide. “Oh, all the animals. Sooo many animals.”
“Which ones?”
I can’t believe the pressure a tiny kid can put on an adult. I scramble for names. “Well, I had this goat named Frisky who was really silly and fun and very sweet. He’s in heaven now, so if I ask him, he could probably hang out with your mom while she’s getting her wings.”
Sadie frowns in confusion. “What wings?” She swipes her hand under her nose, spreading boogies across her cheek. I have to look away to ease the insta-nausea that takes over my stomach.
Sam takes a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes her face as I answer.
“Well, she’s an angel now, so she’s going to have wings and be able to fly.”
I glance at Sam and he’s nodding at me. I guess it’s okay if I sell Sadie on this idea of the afterlife, even though he doesn’t believe in it himself.
“What other animals are there?” Sadie asks.
“Well, I also had a horse named Henry who’s there. Do you want me to talk to him about your mom too?”
She nods. “Yes. Especially if he’s a unicorn horse.”
“I’m pretty sure he is. You know, I didn’t see a horn on his head when he was with me, but I think unicorns keep their horns invisible so nobody tries to catch them and put them in a zoo.”
Sadie nods at me, her eyes lighting up. “I think you’re prolly right about that. Unicorns are very magic.”
“Yes. They are.” Sam pats her on the chest. “Do you still want to put on your fancy dress and go to dinner with Daddy and Emerald?”
Sadie looks around the room, puts her hands on her cheeks, and nods. She takes a deep breath in and out, and then lets her arms fall to dangle by her sides. “I’m really sad right now, but maybe if I have some chicken nuggets, I won’t be so sad after.”
I have to look away as my throat closes up. Poor, sweet little thing. She’s still going to be sad, even after she eats those chicken nuggets, but I like the idea of her getting a temporary reprieve if nothing else.
“That’s the spirit,” Sam says. “Why don’t we go have that bath now?”
“Can it have bubbles in it?” she asks, taking her dad’s hand.
“I already took care of it,” I say, proud that I can read the mind of a four-year-old.
Sadie pauses and looks up at me. “How did you know I like bubble baths?”
“Because I was a four-year-old once too.”
She looks me up and down. “That must’ve been a really, really long time ago because you’re really old now.”
Sam hides his laugh behind the back of his hand.
“You’re right. I’m twenty-five and that is pretty old, now that you mention it. Some days I feel like I’m a hundred.” Like today.
“That’s okay.” She slides her free hand into mine. “I still like you, even though you’re old.”
We all walk toward bathroom, squeezing through the very narrow hallway together.
“Good. Because I like you too, even though you’re young.”
“If you want, you can marry my daddy,” Sadie says.
My eyeballs almost fall out of my head hearing that. I can’t see Sam’s face, but he’s frozen in his tracks, just like I am.
“Okay, well . . . that’s good to know.” I let her hand go. “I’m going to go in the other room and watch TV while you take your bath.”
She spins around. “No. You have to stay with me and wash my back. It’s dangerous to leave a child alone in the bathtub.”
I work to get my voice even, still freaked out about the marriage comment. “Your daddy can watch over you.”
She presses her hands on her hips and gives me a look that I’m pretty sure she learned from one of her parents. “You both can watch me.”
“Fine. We can both watch you,” Sam says. “Just get your clothes off and stop your yappin’.” He points toward the bathroom, avoiding making eye contact with me, thank goodness.
I walk over to the tub, lowering myself down onto my knees next to it. I talk to myself inside my head the entire time. I can get through this. I am not afraid of a four-year-old—not even one who sees too much and somehow manages to say exactly the most embarrassing thing at exactly the worst moment.
Pfff. Who am I kidding? Of course I’m afraid.
Amber was right about me; I’m afraid of the feelings I have for Sam and his little girl, of how they can evoke this need to protect them both when I hardly know them. I’m afraid of the sadness that overwhelms me when I realize that our time together is going to be short-lived because they’ll be staying in New York and I’ll be moving on. I’m afraid that I’m never going to meet a guy as attractive to me as Sam is out in the middle of nowhere in Maine, or anywhere else for that matter. I’m sitting here next to this bathtub, watching a sassy little princess make a bubble beard that “looks just like Daddy’s,” and I want to run for the hills . . . Because love is scary. I swallow with difficulty as that word floats through my mind. Love . . .