Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series

by Clanton, Barbara L.

  Sam checked the tuning on her violin, nodded to Ronnie, and headed into the wings, stage right. Ronnie turned away from Sam and said his lines.

  “L’Chaim,” Ronnie finished his plea to God and raised an imaginary bottle in salute. He swayed drunkenly across the stage toward Sam.

  That was Sam’s cue. She played the first phrase of If I Were a Rich Man offstage and then jumped onto the stage. She grinned at Ronnie. He stopped in his tracks surprised by her sudden appearance in front of him.

  God, he’s good. Sam kept the grin plastered on her face. In their four days working together, Ronnie taught her a lot of things about stage direction, like not turning her back to the audience. So far so good.

  Ronnie raised one dramatic eyebrow, but basically ignored her and walked away. Sam ran after him while playing the second phrase of the song and then leaped in front of him again. Ronnie stopped again, and Sam was amazed she had actually hit her mark. She was also amazed at how quiet the entire cast and crew were. Maybe they were feeling the symbolism of the moment. Ronnie had explained to Sam that this was a pivotal moment in the play when Tevye had no other choice but to deal with the fiddler blocking his path. The fiddler, representing change, could not be ignored.

  After a slow nod from Ronnie, Sam picked up the tune where she had left off. She walked a close circle around him, playing all the while. He shrugged as if resigned to his fate, and they danced together in the middle of stage. Sam increased the pace of the tune to match the frenetic pace of their dancing. Finally, they spun in fast circles, Sam playing frantically as she led them off the stage.

  Sam jerked the bow across the strings one last time and then she and Ronnie threw their arms around each other and laughed.

  The auditorium burst into applause.

  “C’mon,” Ronnie said grabbing her arm, “your first curtain call.”

  Sam let Ronnie drag her back onto the stage. The entire cast and crew were on their feet applauding. Ronnie took a bow and then stage pointed at Sam. Sam felt the blush fill her entire face as she bowed quickly and then rolled her eyes at Ronnie.

  “Brava!” Alivia and Karl called.

  Sam smiled at them, and was surprised to see Blondie’s friend on her feet clapping. Blondie, however, sat sullenly in her seat.

  Oh, well, ya can’t win ‘em all, Sam thought.

  Mrs. Dickens nodded at her, and Sam smiled. Mrs. Dickens reached for her whistle, and Sam threw her fingers in her ears. Groans filled the auditorium as the shrill whistle pierced the air.

  “Seats, everyone.” Mrs. Dickens gestured to the auditorium seats in front of her. “It’s time for the final notes of the day.”

  Sam and Ronnie and the few members of the crew that had been in the wings headed for the seats.

  Mrs. Dickens nodded at Sam and Ronnie again. “You two have amazing chemistry on stage. Nice performance, both of you, and I don’t have much in the way of notes for you, except that we’re going to have to do something with that long blond hair.”

  Sam reached up and touched her head. She must have had a stricken expression on her face because Mrs. Dickens laughed. “A hat, dear, that’s all I meant. Some kind of hat you can tuck your hair under. But you’re going to have to grow a beard and mustache. Can you get that done by opening night?”

  Sam’s eyes grew wide. She shook her head vigorously. The cast and crew laughed.

  Ronnie patted her on the knee and whispered, “See? I said we were going to make you butch.”

  “Shuddup, Ronnie.”

  “Ronald.”

  Sam was about to smack him on the leg, when her cell phone rang.

  Mrs. Dickens threw her a scathing look.

  “Sorry,” Sam choked out. She dug into her back pocket and silenced the ringer. The name on the screen made the breath catch in her throat. Gerald Payton. She sunk lower into the auditorium seat. Her father never called her. Ever. Why was he calling now? Oh, God. He must have figured out she was at the rehearsal. She placed the now-silenced cell phone on her thigh and held her head up high remembering she was a Payton who had been trained to show no emotion. It looked like she would be keeping that appointment with Dr. Boyle on Tuesday after all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Passport to Hell

  THE BELL ON the door jangled as Sam and Helene left the diner. Sam held the door open for her nanny to pass through.

  “I love their Rueben’s.” Helene grinned at Sam.

  “Best in town.” Sam linked her arm through Helene’s.

  “Best in the whole North Country. I hope your parents don’t find out we had lunch here.”

  A middle-aged man wearing a Buffalo Sabres t-shirt headed toward them on his way into the diner.

  “Montréal Canadiens,” Sam murmured loud enough for him to hear. “Stanley Cup champs.” She hid a smile when he scowled at her on his way past.

  Helene snickered. “Don’t taunt the natives. Even though Montréal does have the best hockey team in the world, I’m pretty sure your family owns this diner, and we don’t want to ruffle any feathers.”

  Sam nodded. She wasn’t sure when she had adopted the Montréal Canadiens as her favorite hockey team, but it probably had something to do with the fact that it was Helene’s favorite team. They had watched countless games together in Helene’s apartment. And they’d always drink Canada Dry ginger ale in honor of the Canadian-based team.

  They headed toward Helene’s Prius at the far end of the busy parking lot. Apparently the East Valley Diner was a hotspot for hungry Saturday shoppers.

  “Thanks for taking me to get my passport. I don’t know why you had to go with me. I’m a big girl now. I could have done it all by my wittle self.” Sam was teasing, but she was confused, too. Did her parents think she wasn’t capable of bringing her birth certificate down to the post office and getting her passport renewed on her own?

  “You’re still a minor, so your parents wanted me to go with you.” Helene hit a button on her key causing the Prius to chirp as it unlocked the doors.

  “I guess.” Sam opened the passenger door and got in. “So what did you and old Mr. Donahue talk about when I was getting my picture taken? I saw you two whispering like little school girls.”

  “You caught me,” Helene teased. “I’m having a scandalous affair with the postmaster.” She placed her enormous purse in the backseat and then buckled her seat belt.

  Sam buckled her own seat belt as Helene started the car. “It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out like this.”

  “Yes, it has. You’ve been so busy these days.” Helene eased the car out of the parking lot onto CR 62. “Hey, did you know pre-season starts in two weeks?”

  “Already?”

  Helene nodded. “The Dallas Stars are the first victims.”

  “Let me know when the game is, and I’ll be at your door before the first puck is dropped.” Sam wondered if Lisa liked ice hockey.

  “Will do. So tell me more about the play at school.”

  “It’s a blast. It’s only been two weeks so far, but I feel like I belong somewhere. Besides softball, that is.”

  Helene flashed Sam a sympathetic smile. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that.”

  “Say what?”

  “That you belong somewhere.”

  “You have?”

  “Sure. You haven’t exactly been happy these past few years, have you?”

  Sam hung her head and picked at an imaginary thread on her jeans. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious.”

  “Well, maybe not to everyone.”

  “Like Mother and Daddy.”

  “They’re busy people.” Helene shrugged.

  “Did you know that both Mother and Daddy are making me see Dr. Boyle on Tuesdays again?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “They’re both upset because they think I’m playing in the pit again. They think I’m becoming a commoner. Daddy even called me in the middle of rehearsal last week.” Sam rolled her eyes.

/>   “It may just be that you did something independently. You didn’t run it by them first.”

  “Maybe.”

  “But Samantha Rose,” Helene admonished, “why haven’t you told them you’re actually in the play?” Helene took her eyes off the road for a moment to fix Sam with a questioning look.

  Sam wasn’t sure how to answer the question, so she flashed Helene the cheesiest grin she could muster.

  Helene couldn’t help but laugh. “I can’t wait for the fallout from this one. But you know what I think?”

  “What?”

  “Ever since you’ve been with Lisa, you’re more willing to put yourself out there, more willing to try new things. You’ve been a lot more confident lately.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “No way. I couldn’t even tell them I was auditioning for the play.”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing. You auditioned. Last year’s Samantha Rose wouldn’t have gone anywhere near that auditorium.”

  Sam looked out the car window at the shops in the main part of downtown. “You know what?” she said with a sigh. “I think you’re right.”

  “And if I’m not mistaken, you’ll be heading for Clarksonville to see Lisa two minutes after we get home?”

  “Yup. Just as long as it takes me to leap out of your car into mine.” Sam felt her cheeks get warm at the thought of seeing Lisa. Having to wait an entire week sucked. Something had to change soon, or she was going to lose her mind. She glanced at the cell phone clutched in her hand. She wanted to text Lisa so bad, but didn’t want to while spending time with Helene. Helene would think it was rude. Sam would text Lisa as soon as she was in her own car and on her way to Clarksonville.

  Helene eased the car into the turning lane at the stop light. She often took St. Regis Road home from downtown East Valley instead of staying on CR 62. She said she liked the peaceful back roads better. A lot of Amish families lived on that route, which was why Sam avoided it. She got nervous sharing the road with the horse and buggies. The only time she took St. Regis Road was to get to Raymond Road where she and Lisa sometimes went to be alone.

  “So, honey, you haven’t told me what colleges you’re applying to.”

  Sam rolled her eyes. “That’s because I don’t know yet. I’m applying to Wellesley, of course.”

  “Your mother’s alma mater.”

  “Mm hmm. But Mother hasn’t told me the others.”

  “Samantha Rose,” Helene admonished again, “what about your newfound confidence? Tell your Mother where you want to go. It’s not her decision, you know. It’s yours.”

  Sam was so surprised by the anger in Helene’s voice that she was at a loss for words.

  “C’mon, where do you want to go to college?”

  “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “What do you want to study?” The light turned green, and Helene headed west on St. Regis Road.

  “I think Daddy wants me to study business, you know, so that when the time comes, I can take over the family finances.”

  “But what do you want to study?”

  “Mother wants me to continue my music.”

  “And you?”

  Sam looked out the car window at the acres of corn ripe for harvesting. She had absolutely no answer for Helene. She’d never allowed herself to entertain the idea of having a choice in where she went to college or what she majored in. She had never thought about what she would do as a career, either, or if she would even have one.

  “Samantha Rose?”

  “Lisa’s mother says I’m good with kids.”

  Helene nodded. “She told me that, too.”

  “She did? When?”

  “At your last softball game. You introduced us, remember?”

  “Right. What else did you two talk about?”

  “Oh, no. That’s privileged information.” Helene chuckled. “So do you think you’d like to do something with children?”

  “Maybe. Mother wants me to join the Junior League after college, so I need to do a service project for that. I thought about helping schools with their music departments. You know, like, I could give free music lessons or donate violins or maybe sponsor concerts for the kids. I don’t know. Something like that.”

  Sam was suddenly overtaken by uncertainty about what was ahead for her. In a flash she understood why Susie and Marlee got anxious when they talked about college. It was all so unclear.

  “So you have one community service project figured out for after college, but what do you want to do with the rest of your life? What do you want to do for a career? Manage the family finances like your father?”

  “Not really.” To be fair, she didn’t know what was involved with running the family businesses, but dealing with the endless spreadsheets and legal documents she’d seen on her father’s desk didn’t sound like an exciting way to spend the rest of her life.

  “Then what do you want to do?”

  “You can be mighty pushy for a nanny,” Sam protested.

  “It’s my job.”

  Sam let herself get lost in thought as they travelled the lonely back road toward the mansion. The early afternoon sunlight did nothing to warm her new worries. No one had ever asked her what she wanted. It was unfamiliar territory.

  “Lisa said I’d make a good teacher.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I’m patient with her brother and sisters.”

  “So how about that?” Helene said.

  “What? Be a teacher?”

  “Why not? You could be a music teacher.”

  “Oh, God. Can you imagine?”

  “I can, actually.”

  “Mother and Daddy would die. They’d never allow it.”

  “Just like they won’t allow you to play softball or act in a play or be with Lisa.”

  “They don’t know I’m doing two of those things.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Helene, you’re not going to tell them, are you?” Sam’s pulse sped up.

  “Of course not, but they’re going to find out one way or another, Samantha Rose. They always do.”

  They travelled along in silence for a while until Helene said, “Honey, all I ask is that you truly think about what you want to do with the rest of your life. I don’t want you to have any regrets, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Helene slowed down and edged the car away from the shoulder as they passed an Amish family in a buggy. Sam laughed when she saw the kids in the back eating Cheetos out of a Wal-Mart bag. Her thoughts became more serious when she wondered what Helene meant by regrets. Did Helene have regrets? She had sacrificed nearly eighteen years of her life living with Sam and her family. Sam snuck a peek at Helene out of the corner of her eye. The subtle strands of gray in Helene’s blond hair and the tired look on her face made Sam worry. Was Helene going to move out? Was she going to get married? Have a family of her own? They crested the hill leading down to the intersection with Raymond Road. The nice memories of taking Lisa to the isolated farm road on Raymond Road couldn’t break through her new worries about Helene.

  Sam blurted, “Helene, are you going to Switzerland with us?”

  Helene’s silence was all the answer Sam needed. After a few agonizing moments, Helene finally said, “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Honey, you don’t need me anymore.”

  “Yes, I do,” Sam pleaded. Her heart squeezed in her chest. Her worst fears were coming true. She blinked back tears as she looked at her nanny. Or was she looking at her ex-nanny?

  “C’mon, you’re a couple of months away from turning eighteen. I don’t think your parents want to foot the bill for me to vacation in the Swiss Alps.”

  “They said you can’t go with us?”

  “No, it was by mutual agreement. There wasn’t much discussion about it.”

  “Are you leaving? Are you moving out?”

  “Samantha Rose—”

  “Helene!” Sam screeched as a pickup truck barreled straight for t
hem.

  The squeal of tires filled the air. Sam braced for the impact she knew was coming. The sickening sound of metal on metal exploded in her ears. The airbags deployed with such force that she barely registered the sound of breaking glass. She grabbed for the dashboard and hung on as the car spun around and around. In a heart-stopping moment, the car leaned precariously on one side, two wheels in the air.

  “No, no, no, no, no,” Sam pleaded to the universe and braced herself for the car to roll over. She only remembered to breathe when the car fell back on all four wheels and rolled to a standstill.

  Sam took a shallow breath and braced herself against the dashboard with trembling arms. She tried to make sense of what had just happened. The pickup had rammed them at full speed. It ran the red light.

  Dazed, she reached a shaky hand to the pulsing pain in her forehead. Her head was wet. She wiped at it a couple of times until she realized in horror that the wetness was blood. She put both hands up to her head. An open gash just above her eyebrow was oozing blood down her face and into her eyes. She tried without much success to wipe it away. She quickly scanned the rest of her body and was relieved to discover that she was okay.

  The quiet in the car was deafening, and in a rush Sam realized Helene wasn’t moving. Sam turned her head, afraid of what she would see. Helene lay slumped over the steering wheel, eyes closed.

  “No, no, no, no, no, Helene.” Sam placed a shaking hand on Helene’s arm and shook her. “Helene! Wake up, wake up, wake up.”

  When she got no response, Sam shook Helene so hard she fell back from the steering wheel and came to rest against the driver’s door. In a panic, Sam scrambled for her door handle. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of the car. Once out, she took in the scene in one thunderous moment. The pickup truck, engine still running, was in a ditch on the side of Raymond Road. Helene’s car was facing the wrong way on St. Regis Road with smoke pouring out of the engine.

  “Oh, God,” Sam said in panic. Is the car on fire? As she raced to the crumpled driver’s side door, she realized the smoke was just steam pouring out of the radiator. She yanked on the door handle. It didn’t budge. She jerked the handle a dozen more times trying to tear the door off its hinges. In a partial moment of clarity, she realized Helene’s door was locked. She reached in through the broken window and, without daring to look at Helene, flicked the electronic unlock switch up. A satisfying click let her know she had succeeded. She grabbed the handle and pulled. The door didn’t move. She tried again and again.