by I Beacham
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think I do.”
“No, no, no,” Joey said.
“Yes, yes, yes.”
“Please go home. This can’t work.”
“Are you going to let me in?”
“I don’t want you here.” Joey hated the lies that fell from her mouth.
“Fine,” Sam said. “I didn’t think this was going to be easy. Well, if you don’t want me here with you, you’ll have to get used to me being in Baltimore because I’m not leaving.”
Joey was getting angry. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
“Because you love me too. I just have to find a way to make you face up to that, and to scale this brick wall you’re putting between us.”
“And what if I don’t love you?” Joey spat back.
Sam paused and studied her, a momentary look of shock on her face. But it didn’t last long. “Nice try, Barry. Not going to work. Now you go back into your sanctuary and hide.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to tell you.”
Sam gave her the strangest look, as if she could see into the center of her. Maybe she could. Maybe this was what this was all about. Sam turned and disappeared around the corner and back toward the elevator.
Joey leaned hard into the doorjamb.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” she said before stepping back into the apartment and closing the door.
What if I do have PTSD?
*
“What are you going to do?”
Joey’s question kept ringing in Sam’s head as she drove back to the motel.
Sam hadn’t answered it because she had no idea. She only knew she hadn’t packed up her vocation and flown all the way over here to go belly up at the first hurdle. Her resolve was as strong as ever. She wasn’t going to lose Joey without a fight.
Sam was distraught. She’d removed what she thought were the hurdles and presented Joey with a fait accompli. It had changed nothing. That failure posed a dilemma.
Did Joey love her or not?
It was the crucial question. If she didn’t, Sam might as well hop on the next flight home and go tell Neil she wanted her pulpit back. But Sam trusted her instincts. In her years of ministering, her empathic antennae seldom let her down. She knew Joey loved her, and she’d seen a fleeting glint of it in her eyes as she’d opened the door before putting the barriers up.
Also, when Sam had declared her undying love for Joey, it was what Joey hadn’t said that gave Sam hope. She hadn’t told Sam she didn’t love her.
So, if Joey did still love Sam, then what the shit was the block?
Post traumatic stress disorder.
Milo’s words filled her head.
“The PTSD took Harry over…he got worse…he pushed everyone away who mattered to him, the ones he loved, even his children. He wanted to hurt himself, a punishment for living.”
Sam’s enemy was a mental disorder warping Joey’s mind. A disorder Joey was refusing to acknowledge. Until she did, Sam was powerless.
“God, please help me. Show me how I can help her,” she prayed as she drove into the parking lot of the motel and switched off the engine.
Stepping from the car, two minor observations hit her. First, the temperature had plummeted, and she was cold. Second, there was a smattering of small snowflakes falling, and already the ground looked like it had been covered in white powder.
“What?” Sam sighed. “Come on, boss. Like I don’t have enough problems to contend with. Now I have snow?” She gazed up at the sky and the falling flakes. “You’d better not stick,” she growled.
The following morning when she looked out of her motel window, she knew the snowflakes had ignored her.
*
Joey drove to her parents’ place just north of Guilford.
It had taken her longer than usual. Snow had fallen heavy overnight, and although it wasn’t snowing now, the roads were chaos.
She’d almost abandoned the trip, but she had a bone to pick with her mother and it wouldn’t wait. It was also something she wanted to do in person. Her mother had a habit of putting the phone down when she was being chastised for her behavior.
Right now, they were standing in the dining room face-to-face, eyeball-to-eyeball, and to say the moment was tense was an understatement. Unlike her father, Joey was a match for her mother. Her mother knew it and wasn’t happy.
“You drove here to tell me this?”
“You bet. I want to make sure you understand what I’m saying.”
“You’re being melodramatic, Josephine. You shouldn’t have driven in this weather.”
“You’re afraid of what I’m going to say.”
“Don’t be silly.”
Joey watched her mother fingering her pearl necklace, always a sign that she was jittery.
“I’m angry, Mom. You let Sam up to the apartment. You gave her your fob for pity’s sake.”
“Of course I did. She’s flown all the way over here to see you.”
“I didn’t ask her to.”
Her mother was staring at her as if she was a petulant child. It made her angrier.
“She’s come to see you. Of course I’m going to let her up.”
“You’re interfering,” Joey said.
“Only because I have to.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. You’re just not seeing it.”
The room went quiet.
“So?” her mother asked.
“So?” Joey echoed.
“What’s happening between you and Sam?”
“Nothing’s happening between me and Sam.”
“You talked?”
“It was hard not to when she was standing in the doorway.”
“You did let her in?”
Joey almost laughed. Her mother could register shock better than an award-winning actor.
“I did not. In fact, I asked her to leave.”
“Why in the name of Christmas would you do that? This is the woman you told me you loved when you were last here. That’s the only time I have ever heard you use that particular four-letter word.”
Her mother clearly thought she was an imbecile.
Joey was not going to be drawn into the complications of why she was doing what she was. “I told her to go back to the UK.”
Her mother placed her head in her hands and moaned. “And?”
“You’re interfering, Mom. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Has Sam gone?”
Joey’s frustration grew. “She won’t.”
“She won’t?” Her mother lifted her face.
“She says she’s going to hang around.”
The coy smile on her mother’s face irritated Joey.
“Stop it, Mom. This isn’t a game. Sam’s resigned.”
“Resigned?”
“She’s handed in her notice.”
“She can’t. She’s a vicar.”
“I said that, but she said if the Pope can.”
Joey’s revelation shocked her mother whose eyes widened as the truth sank in. “She’s giving all that up…for you?”
“That’s why I’ve told her to go back.”
Her mother’s demeanor changed. She grew softer as she placed a hand on Joey’s shoulder. “Darling, she must love you very much. And you’re turning her away.”
“But I don’t love her, Mom,” Joey lied. If she could convince her mother of that, she’d see reason. She might even convince Sam. But the ploy wasn’t working.
“Don’t be silly. You’re talking to your mother.”
One look at her mom told Joey she was wasting her breath.
Did every desolate, miserable emotion show on her face? A face her mother had always been able to read?
A familiar lump returned to Joey’s throat. It was hard to deny the obvious, but she wasn’t going to talk to her mother about this anymore. She raised
a hand to stop further discussion.
“This isn’t the only reason I came over.” Joey watched her mom arch an eyebrow. “I came to tell you I’m flying out to Albuquerque early tomorrow. I’ll be gone a couple of days. I need to see an old colleague and run some thoughts past him for a project I’m doing for Stallion.”
“I thought you were between contracts and that this is downtime?”
“I am, but I said I’d put a little polish on a documentary they’re working on. It’s no big deal.”
“When did you agree to this?”
“I spoke with them yesterday.”
“Ah. You’re running from Sam.”
“I am not running.”
“I think you are. You could phone this colleague.”
“I prefer face-to-face discussion.”
“As long as it isn’t with Sam.”
Joey held back. Her mother was infuriating when she was like this, the font of all wisdom. She didn’t understand. If she understood half of what she was going through, she’d know to back off. But Joey couldn’t tell her that; it would only worry her.
“I’m not running, Mom…I’ve just made a decision.”
“You are running, darling. You’ve found something to occupy your mind and take you away from the real issues that need attention.”
“Nothing needs sorting. I’ve asked her to leave.”
“And as we’ve already established, she isn’t.”
Joey felt like she was being cornered. It made her feel worse.
“Have you seen Sam since?” her mom asked.
“I don’t know where she’s staying.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“My God, my daughter is a moron. So you’ve left the poor woman in a motel on her own in a strange city where she knows no one.”
Joey watched her mom staring up at the ceiling in frustration and tutting away. Joey couldn’t tell her this was on her conscience too.
“Have you told her you’re going back to the UK?”
“No,” Joey said.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t see the point of it.”
Her mother was looking at her with such disappointment. “You’re not going to tell her.”
Again, Joey didn’t answer. She wanted support from her mother, not the third degree.
“Joey, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of yours. Whatever is going on between you and your vicar, not telling her you’ll be working back in the UK is deceitful. I’ve brought you up better than this.”
“Mother, I’m not a child. I’m a grown woman who—”
“—is making so many mistakes right now. Darling, I love you. I want the best for you. I always have and so has your father, but this is all wrong. You and I know this isn’t Sam’s fault. I’m sorry to talk of this because I know it’s painful for you, but you haven’t been the same since Balshir. Please, darling, don’t let it destroy your future…your happiness. You have to get help.” She paused. “If I thought you really didn’t love Sam, I’d be fighting in your corner. But I know you do…I have a mother’s intuition. What you are doing isn’t the right way—”
“Please stop. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Butt out of my personal life.”
Joey saw only sadness in her mother’s eyes as she restrained herself.
“You will be back for your recording at NPR?” her mother asked.
“Yes, I’ll be back in plenty of time. Don’t worry.”
“But I do worry, darling. I’m your mother. It’s what mothers do.”
*
It was mid afternoon and darkness was already falling when Sam heard the knock on her motel door. She rushed to it half hoping it would be Joey. She’d already called twice at the apartment only to be told by Sandy that Joey was out, and then away for a few days. The only highlight of those visits was that Sandy was a whole lot more genial.
Sam looked through the security peephole in the door and saw Joey’s mother. She was dressed warmly in a camel coat with a heavy scarf wrapped around her neck. An ominous weight rested somewhere in the pit of Sam’s stomach as she opened the door. Why would Ann be here if not to bring news? She was probably acting as Joey’s emissary and about to ask her to go home too.
“Hello, Sam, I hope you don’t mind me disturbing you?” Ann was friendly enough, and her smile didn’t seem to be in keeping with Sam’s foreboding.
“Of course not.” Sam ushered her into the small room and closed the door to keep the heat in.
She caught Ann glancing around the room, taking stock of it. She didn’t seem too impressed.
Sam grinned. “It’s okay, Ann. It’s warm, it’s safe, and the bed’s comfortable.”
The smile on Ann’s face was strained, and she looked tired. It was clear she was uncomfortable, and she didn’t waste time explaining why.
“This is all wrong, Sam. You should not be staying in a seedy motel room while you’re here. You should be with Joey, but since she can’t bring herself to be hospitable at this precise moment…well, Len and I would love for you to come and stay with us.”
The invite shocked Sam. It wasn’t what she’d expected. It was a generous offer, but she didn’t think it reasonable to inflict herself on Joey’s folks. She didn’t know how long she’d be in Baltimore, or how emotional everything might get. She’d already raced through a box of tissues. She politely started to decline.
“There’s no need—”
“There’s every need.” Ann was insistent. “If what Joey told me is true, I can’t imagine you have any plans to leave soon, and this place will burn a sizable hole in your pocket. Forgive me, but I’ve never met a vicar yet with throwaway wealth. Please, Len and I are used to having guests over. You won’t be an inconvenience. It would be a real pleasure.”
It was Sam’s turn to feel uncomfortable.
“Len…does he know who I am, I mean really know who I am besides a motorbike loving member of the cloth?”
“You mean does he know you’re in love with his daughter and that’s why you’re over here?”
“Yes, that’s a pretty good start.”
Ann played with the soft leather gloves she was now holding in her hands.
“He knows.”
“And how does he feel about that? How do you feel about that?”
Ann seated herself on the foot of the bed. “Joey came out very young and we’ve had a lot of time to get used to her sexual orientation. Frankly, it’s become part of who she is and we’re very proud of her. It’s a non-issue for us both. What is important is that whoever she chooses to settle with, she makes the right decision. When she came home last time, she told me about you. She told me she was in love with you. Sam, I have never seen my daughter so serious about anyone.”
“She’s not too happy about it at the moment.”
“No, she isn’t, but if I didn’t think she was still in love with you I wouldn’t be doing this.” Ann studied the room again. “You don’t really want to stay here?”
As roadside accommodations went, this was okay, but it was an awful place to be when you were low, depressed, lovesick, and by yourself. There was little charm to the room, and Sam couldn’t deny she was lonely and just a little desperate.
“Do you always get involved in your daughter’s love life?” Sam asked.
“This is a first.”
“This isn’t going to endear you to Joey.”
“I know.”
“But you’re doing it.”
“I am, and probably for the same reasons you’ve told her you aren’t leaving.”
Sam smiled. She liked Ann very much. Joey was lucky to have such wonderful parents. Sam’s had been wonderful too, but both had passed away years ago. She would always miss them.
“You do know she’s asked me to leave…to go back to the UK.”
“I know that too,” Ann said.
Sam had always sensed that Joey was close to her paren
ts and that there was a mutual respect between them. The depth of discussion she was having with Ann only confirmed it. It worried Sam that she might drive a wedge between mother and daughter.
“I don’t want to cause problems between you both.”
“Accepted. But she knows where I stand on this issue.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
“Inviting you to come be our guest? No, she does not.”
“Oh, the fur’s going to fly.” Sam shook her head as she exhaled heavily.
“I take it you’ve decided to accept my invitation.”
“If you and Len are really sure about this—”
“We are.”
“You’re very brave.”
“We have a vicar on our side.” Ann’s dry humor was back.
“Then I accept your kind hospitality unreservedly.”
Sam was starting to think about one more night in the motel and then driving out to wherever the Barrys lived. Ann was thinking differently.
“Pack your belongings, Sam. Len is waiting for us outside.” Ann stood.
“Now?”
“You want to spend an evening alone with this room, explaining to it why you’re walking out?”
Ann had a unique style. It was warmly familiar. Joey had inherited some of it too.
Sam shrugged. “You’re right. Room, we’re through.” She grabbed her suitcase and started throwing the little she’d brought with her into it.
A thought occurred to Sam. “What about my rental car?”
“Leave it. We can sort it out tomorrow. Len or I will bring you over so you can drive it back to us in the light or you can return it. We can sort some wheels out for you.” Ann was smiling and looked relaxed for the first time.
As they walked across to where Len waited, Ann turned to Sam.
“Would you like to join me for Sunday service at church tomorrow?”
Sam started to laugh. “Yes. I think we may need to garner all the support we can get.”
Chapter Seventeen
Joey stepped into the DC hotel room off DuPont Circle. She shut the door, flung her coat and shoes off, and dropped onto the bed.
She hated deceiving her mother. She’d told her a pack of lies about flying out to Albuquerque to see an old contact. What she was really doing was escaping Baltimore for a few days so she could breathe. Everything was getting too fraught and claustrophobic. Sam wasn’t doing what Joey asked. She’d bedded down in town and was sticking close. Worse, her parents appeared to be siding with Sam.
