by J. D. Walker
Because of Sam
By J.D. Walker
Published by JMS Books LLC
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Copyright 2019 J.D. Walker
ISBN 9781634868099
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
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All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
Because of Sam
By J.D. Walker
This file isn’t the one I asked for.
“Willard!” I yelled, already angry at the prospect of having to wait another two minutes to get something that should have been so fucking simple to find. It defied the imagination.
“Yes, sir?” the timid little man said when he entered my office.
“Did I, or did I not ask for the Templeton file?”
He swallowed. “You did, Mr. Wesley.”
“Then, why do I have the Temperton file on my desk?” I roared. One of my eyelids twitched, and a vein throbbed on my forehead.
Willard trembled. “I’m sorry, sir. Must have been a slip of the fingers. Won’t happen again.”
“It better not,” I said, growling at him. I picked up the folder and shoved it at him. “You have two minutes to get me that file…or you’re fired.”
Without responding, Willard scurried away to get me what I should have received the first time. Why did I put up with mediocrity? The man had so much potential.
By five o’clock that evening, I’d shouted at two more people, had a frustrating meeting with the CEO, and realized I’d have to work straight through the night to meet my deadline. Again.
Fuck.
At two o’clock in the morning, I was finally finished. Completely exhausted, the prospect of a warm bed was the only thing keeping me on my feet. I waved to the security officer, Donald, as I headed to the parking deck.
Five minutes later, I was on my way home. As I drove, I yawned, cracking my face wide open. I’d been doing late nights and seven-day-a-week shifts for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like not to be this way. I scratched my cheek, fingers grazing stubble and the scars my father had given me one night when he was totally wasted, three sheets to the wind, and in a towering rage. I’d never forget that incident.
* * * *
“You fucking cunt!” Dad advanced on Louise, who was cowering under the table in the kitchen. “You’re just like your useless bitch of a mother, with her sniveling, whining ways. Good riddance to her. Now get out here, you little shit!”
Dad reached under the table and grabbed my sister by the wrist, yanking her out so hard I heard her shoulder pop. She screamed in pain, and as Dad lifted a hand to smack her, I held onto his arm.
“Stop, Dad. Please! Why are you doing this?” I said, my scrawny, eleven-year-old body no match for his height and strength. But I had to try. “You’re hurting her. You’re hurting us!”
He shoved me away, but at least he’d stopped harassing Louise. Dad picked up the beer he’d been drinking and swallowed the remains of the bottle. He wiped his mouth on a dirty sleeve, then grabbed the neck of it. “You think you can talk to me like that? Goddamn pansy. I’ll show you how to be a man.”
Dad hauled me to him with one fist in my shirt and pushed me into the wall by the fridge. “I’ll teach you to interfere in things that don’t concern you, boy.” And then he took his first swing at me with the bottle.
* * * *
It was as clear as if it had happened yesterday. Dad hadn’t cut my face the first time, but the blow to my cheek had still hurt and I’d writhed in agony. No, it was the second, third, and fourth swings which had done it. The sound of my screams, and those of my sister, had eventually gotten a neighbor to call the cops. When they came and busted down the door, Dad had been standing over me, breathing heavily, and yelling at me to stop bleeding. As if that would have been possible.
I remembered that there was blood everywhere and seven-year-old Louise had been whimpering and rocking herself where she had lain on the floor. When the police arrived, the floor had been red and one of the cops had gasped at the scene. Dad had been kicking me in the ribs by then, having thrown the bottle in a corner somewhere. He’d called me names I’d rather not recall. They had taken him away, and my sister and I went to stay with an uncle.
Louise and I never talked about that time, but the memory of that encounter was always with us—and on my face. As the years went by, I’d heard that Dad had died in prison, but I didn’t care. It was bad enough to have had him as a father. But to see his ugly mug staring back at me in the mirror, along with the scars he’d left behind, was much, much worse.
When I’d left my uncle’s house at eighteen, Louise and I were practically strangers. Our dad had made us that way, and we didn’t know how to bridge the gap. I’d heard it said that tragedy brings families together. Well, in our case, it created a huge divide. I hadn’t spoken to my sister or heard from her since I left home.
I arrived at my condo building half an hour later. When I let myself inside, my eyelids were heavy. I decided that a shower was too much to ask at this hour, so I simply collapsed face down on the couch and was soon lost to the world.
* * * *
The alarm on my phone woke me at five. Bleary-eyed, I sat up on the couch, stiff in too many places to count, and still weary. My head hurt something fierce, but I was used to that. It was all par for the course in my daily life, which probably wasn’t all that healthy.
I had to be at work by seven to start on my next deadline. There never seemed to be an end in sight to the fires to be put out, the financial crises to fix, and pacifying my superiors was like herding sheep—practically pointless.
I went to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower. Afterward, I shaved at the sink. I was a tall man, pretty big and intimidating to most people. But for me, when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see gray eyes and blond hair or the dimple in my chin. I only saw someone I hated more than life itself.
I’d never touched a drop of alcohol because of my dad, and I held myself under rigid control, expecting everyone else to do the same. When that didn’t happen, there was hell to pay.
I’d never asked to be like this. Before my mother had died, I’d been a gentle soul, content to play with my sister, run around outside and have adventures like all little boys before me. After Dad’s abuse, it had taken me a long time to heal, physically. Mentally, it had taken years. But the person I’d become, I didn’t really like. I just couldn’t seem to stop being that way, though I yearned for something different.
School had been painful, and the teasing merciless. I’d lost that innocence I’d known and became cold and calculating. It was as if a sheet of ice had formed within me, and my only purpose in this world was to su
rvive, no matter what. I’d turned into a heartless human being. It was all I knew, and I didn’t know how to change it.
There was a gym in my building, but I was much too tired to do any working out today. I dressed in a suit, as always. It was custom-made for my frame, since I could afford it. I didn’t buy much outside of food and bills, but my clothing was always impeccable. Today, I chose a dark blue pin-striped ensemble, with a white shirt and pale blue tie, along with a matching handkerchief in the breast pocket.
Once finished, I put on my favorite black leather shoes—the ones that didn’t pinch my toes—and made my way to the kitchen to brew coffee and microwave a couple of frozen burritos for breakfast. While I ate, I thought of my schedule for the day. I had two staff meetings, and then another one with the CEO, and that was just this morning.
Something was going on at the company, and I was being kept in the dark, deliberately. Usually I was among the first to know about emergencies or major upsets. But I’d been too busy with deadlines to pay close attention to details, and I hadn’t had a chance to do a thorough review of the company finances—domestic and overseas—in months. I had noticed low performance in some sectors, but had been too swamped by other things to follow up. The CEO kept saying he would handle it, and everything was okay. The whole thing was disconcerting.
I found some Tylenol and had four of the pills with my coffee as I leaned back against the sink. My condo was neat as a pin, completely done in white, and very sparsely furnished. I had no pictures on the walls, and a huge TV which I never turned on. I lived at my office, and hardly ever spent any time here. It was a lonely life. I was lonely.
What did I have to offer anyone, though? I had money, sure. But I never splurged. Never went anywhere. My job was everything, and a significant other wouldn’t fit in very well. I drank my coffee and washed out the mug in the sink, then set it in the tray to dry.
I checked my watch. It was six thirty, and time to head to work. As I wandered to the living room to gather my briefcase and laptop bag, I gave a fleeting thought to Louise. How was she doing? Did she still live with our uncle? Well, likely not. It had been twenty years since I’d seen her. I sometimes wished I’d kept in touch, but what would I say? What good would it do?
There was so much pain between us. Did I really want to bring all that up again? Maybe it was better this way. I slung the laptop bag over one shoulder and grabbed my briefcase on my way to the door. My cell phone was already in my pocket, and the car keys hung from a nail in the hallway leading to the front door.
As I grabbed the keys, I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. Frowning, I took it out and answered, “Martin Wesley.”
“Mr. Wesley, this is Frank at the front desk. There’s a social worker here with a little girl. She needs to speak to you. May I send them up?”
Say what now?
There had to be some misunderstanding. “Sure, go ahead.” I should be able to deal with this quickly. I’d have to, otherwise I’d be late for work.
“They’re on their way. Thank you, sir.” Frank hung up.
I waited impatiently for the knock on the door, which came two minutes later. Peering through the peephole, I saw a middle-aged woman in a faded green suit, and a little girl whose appearance reminded me of…
Before the social worker could knock again, I opened the door and glanced down at a child who could only be my sister Louise’s daughter.
* * * *
“Martin Wesley?” the lady asked.
“Yes?”
“My name is Rita Lomax. I’m from Social Services.” She adjusted her tortoise shell glasses and then dug around in her huge handbag to find something.
While she rummaged through her things, I gazed down at the blonde-haired child. Her huge eyes were filled with fear, and she stepped closer to Rita.
“Here it is.” Ms. Lomax gave me a thick manila envelope. “Your sister, Louise Wesley, died last week in Arizona. You are listed as the only next of kin. This angel,” she said, stooping to brush untidy hair out of the toddler’s gray eyes, “is your niece, Samantha Wesley.”
There was no way I could deny this was Louise’s child, but that I could be the only next of kin…“What about her father? Or our uncle, uh, George Wesley?”
“He’s in a home in Tucson, and Louise was taking care of him and Samantha until she died from breast cancer. The father of the child is unknown,” Rita replied.
I checked my watch. It was fifteen minutes to seven. “Ms. Lomax, while I understand your predicament, there is no way I can take care of a child. I’m not set up for this. I have no idea how to be a parent! This is un—”
Rita cut me off. “I’m sorry, Mr. Wesley, but you need to make the best of things for now. I have five more cases like this to handle today. Do what you can for the rest of the week, then I’ll check up on you and we’ll see what can be done, okay?”
With that, she handed over a small backpack and a suitcase, then kissed and hugged Samantha. “Okay, sweetheart. Your uncle’s going to take care of you now. Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
Samantha nodded, her blonde ringlets bouncing around her face. Rita stood, pushed a business card into my hand, and said, “If you truly find things to be overwhelming, give me a call. I’m available by cell anytime. But you should know, Louise thought the world of you, and in the letter she wrote—you’ll see it when you go through the envelope—she wanted you to be Samantha’s parent and take care of her, just like you once did for her mother.”
That knowledge just about knocked me on my ass. “But I—”
“Good luck, Mr. Wesley. Bye, Samantha.” Then Ms. Lomax was gone.
* * * *
Samantha and I stared at each other, not saying anything. I glanced at my watch again, then back at the sad-eyed little girl who’d yet to say a word at all. With a sigh, I kneeled down before my niece. She had a ratty teddy bear in her arms and she hid behind its head a little when I faced her.
“Hi, Samantha, my name is Martin.” I held out my hand to shake her tiny one. Slowly, she slid her small palm into mine.
“Now,” I continued, “I need to get to work, and I can’t leave you here by yourself. We’re gonna have to figure out what to do with you all day. Do you understand?”
Samantha nodded. I knew she was trying to be brave, but she seemed about to cry. I couldn’t handle tears right now. Time to move things along. I locked the door behind me, then collected her stuff. “Give me your hand, love. We have to get you squared away, and I have to get going.”
Samantha put her hand in mine, and we headed toward the elevator. In the lobby, we went up to the security desk. “Frank, this is my niece, Samantha.” When he and I gazed down at her, she hid behind my legs.
“She’s shy. I’ll let management know I have a guest, but I wanted you to be aware she was here as well.”
“No problem, sir,” he said. “The best of luck to you. I have three little ones myself. So if you ever need any advice…”
“I appreciate the offer,” I replied. I left Frank behind as Samantha and I walked through the parking deck. It was slow going, her little legs unable to keep up with mine, so I had to shorten my stride.
By the time we reached my SUV, it was seven o’clock. “Shi…” I let the word hang in the air since I now had to consider little ears. I stashed everything in the backseat, and then placed Samantha in the middle.
I realized then that I would need to get a car seat, and a ton of other stuff. Fuck. I buckled her in as best I could, and as we sat there, I checked my phone for daycare centers close by. I was in luck. Tiny Dreams for Tots was a block away from my condo building.
I drove with one eye on Samantha in the rearview mirror. She was still holding on tightly to her teddy bear and was now looking out the window.
“You all right, honey?” I asked and saw her nod. Why doesn’t she ever talk, I wonder?
In no time at all, we were parked in an empty spot in front of the daycare center. I got out of
the car and carefully took Samantha out of the back seat and into my arms, with her still holding her stuffed animal. I grabbed all her items and rushed into the building.
“Hi there, I’m Ryan Gentles,” a sweet-sounding male voice said and I turned to encounter the loveliest hazel eyes I’d ever seen. And the owner of those gorgeous peepers had the cutest freckles on his nose, as well as being a redhead.
I noticed all these things in mere seconds as I tried to focus on the fact that I was late for work, had a traumatized little girl to take care of, and a man before me who was the stuff of dreams. “Uh, hi. I’m Martin Wesley, and this is Samantha Wesley, my niece. I’m taking care of her for…well, anyway, I’m late for work and I can’t take her with me. I don’t know what to do and I was hoping—”
“Breathe, Mr. Wesley. It’s okay,” Ryan said, soothing me immediately with his calm tone. “Here, let me have Samantha.” He took her in his arms, and she went willingly.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said. “Are you hungry?”
Samantha nodded. Ah shit, I should have thought of that. “Listen, I’m in a hurry,” I said. “Do I have to do paperwork or anything, or can it wait until I get back this evening?” I asked, thinking that getting here on time would be difficult, considering the hours I usually kept. How the hell was I supposed to do this? I could feel my stress level rising already.
“Give me your driver’s license and a business card if you have one. We’ll start there, okay? Everything will be just fine,” Ryan said. “Just make sure to be here by six o’clock this evening to pick her up.”
But…Ah, screw it. I’d just have to figure something out. “I appreciate this,” I said, quickly providing the items he requested, then watching as Ryan made the copies he needed and returned my identification to me, all while he still held Samantha.
“You’re welcome.” Ryan smiled, and my stomach did a strange little roll. I didn’t have time to think about what that meant.
As I was about to leave, Samantha said, “Bye” in a tiny voice.
