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

by Clanton, Barbara L.

  “By artificial insemination. In Montréal.” The red tinge on Helene’s cheeks spread.

  “Oh.”

  Helene laughed. “I think you were bound and determined to be born, because I conceived you on the first try.”

  “That‘s good.” Sam was relieved to hear that because it had taken Lisa’s Aunt Fran several tries before she got pregnant. “But you said my birth was hard?”

  “You were my first child, my only child of course, but it took you twenty hours to be born. I was so exhausted and weak that I had to stay in the hospital an extra few days. Once they released me, I still wasn’t strong enough to go back to Montréal.”

  “Is that when my parents invited you to live here?”

  “No, actually we stayed in the adobe house in Phoenix for another month. That was when, and I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but that was when your mother discovered she wasn’t the nurturing type. Your parents thought her motherly instincts would kick in after a while, but they never did. Every time you cried, neither she nor your father could get you to settle down. I finally asked if I could try.”

  “I bet that was hard for Mother,” Sam said.

  “Incredibly, but your parents were at their wits end. You quieted down when I held you.”

  “I did?”

  Helene nodded.

  “I must have known who my real mother was.”

  “Your parents extended my contract—“

  “Contract?” Sam interrupted, mortified by the term.

  “Don’t delude yourself, Samantha Rose. Your father is all about the bottom line.”

  “Like on financial spreadsheets?”

  Helene nodded. “My surrogacy started out as a business arrangement, but after your father extended my contract a half-dozen times, he decided I should remain with you until you went to boarding school in Switzerland when you turned fourteen.”

  “And then I didn’t go because of my migraines.”

  “Exactly. So my contract was renegotiated again, and they wanted me to stay until you turned eighteen. I knew I had been handed an amazing gift, so I grabbed it, even if it meant I was contract-bound to never admit to anyone I was your biological mother.“

  “That must have been incredibly hard.”

  “If it meant I could keep you, then the secret was easy.” Helene sighed and added, “It was difficult when I was left out of things, though.”

  “Family meals.” Sam had always hated when Helene wasn’t invited to sit down and eat with them.

  “Yes. And birthdays. Christmas mornings were always the worst.”

  Sam smiled. “So that’s why Santa made two stops at the mansion? One in the main house and one here?”

  Helene nodded. “I could never compete with the gifts your parents gave you, but at least I usually had part of Christmas day with you.” She pointed to the scrapbook and squeezed Sam’s forearm gently. “I’ve got pictures of all our Christmases together. Tomorrow night we’ll start on page one, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “For now I think it’s best you head on to bed.”

  “Awww,” Sam whined and pretended to kick her feet on the couch like she’d done as a child.

  “That’s my grown up girl.” Helene laughed.

  Sam wanted to ask something, but wasn’t sure how to phrase it, so she simply blurted, “Can I call you Mom?”

  Helene pursed her lips. “I would love that more than anything...”

  “But?”

  “But I think you should continue to call me Helene or your nanny, and you should call your mother Mother, the way you always have.”

  ”Okay.”

  “This way you won’t slip up in front of someone. We should wait for my name change until after you and your parents mend some fences.”

  “They don’t listen when I talk to them.”

  “I can’t promise they’ll come around, but it might be easier when I’m gone.”

  At that point, Sam tried not to get more depressed than she already was. “I’m going to miss you, Helene.” They stood up and shared a healing hug.

  “Oh, mon petit hibou, I’m going to miss you so much.” Helene kissed Sam on the forehead. She swallowed hard and then took a deep breath. “Okay, little one. Bed for you.” She wiped at her eyes when they broke apart.

  Sam clutched the velvet curtain in the wings of the stage and smiled at the month-old memory. She watched Helene settle into her seat in the auditorium, jacket over her arm, playbill in hand, a bouquet of gerbera daisies resting in her lap. Susie and Marlee came in and sat behind Helene. Sam positively melted when she spotted Lisa, hair deliciously down, wearing the winter coat Sam had sent her from the Neiman Marcus website. Sam was pleased at how well the coat fit her. Even though Sam was housebound, she could still send her girlfriend presents. Bridget held Lisa’s hand and led the family down Helene’s row. Sam’s heart swelled when Bridget released her sister’s hand and ran to sit in Helene’s lap. The surprised but happy smile on Helene’s face somehow made Sam realize that life would go on and everything would be okay.

  Someone tapped her shoulder. A stagehand gestured for her to get back to the green room. It was almost time for the play to start. Sam nodded and made her way back, disappointed that she hadn’t yet seen her other parents.

  After the group prayer, led eloquently by Ronnie, Sam worked her way onto the dimly lit stage and climbed up the stairs behind the scenes to the set roof. She sat on the fake stone chimney, and let the stagehand clip her into the safety restraints.

  “Snug?” The stagehand tugged on the restraints.

  “Yup.”

  “Pretend that you’re playing.”

  Sam moved around like she knew she would while playing. The restraints felt good and secure. During the dress rehearsals Sam never once felt vertigo being up so high. She’d been on mountain tops in the Swiss Alps that were infinitely scarier than the set she was sitting on. Even though she had assured everybody she was perfectly safe, Helene and her parents would probably have a collective heart attack once the curtain opened.

  Sam took a deep breath and made sure she was sitting on her mark as the orchestra in the pit tuned up. She joined them from atop the roof.

  Mrs. Dickens’ voice filled the auditorium. “The students and I are glad you were able to join us on this cold November night. I think I even heard a forecast for snow on Sunday.” A few groans followed, and Mrs. Dickens chuckled. “That’s life in the North Country, right?” She paused while people laughed and then added, “Now, if you could take a moment to turn off your cell phones, the cast and crew would greatly appreciate it.” She paused for a moment and then said, “Please join me for East Valley High School’s production of Fiddler on the Roof.”

  Sam heard the clapping and took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She waited for the stage manager’s cue. He lowered his arm, and Sam played one long note. She was amazed at how good her instrument sounded through the auditorium speakers. The curtain opened as she played the introductory piece in the dark. A spotlight behind her came up slowly simulating the sunrise. The backlighting kept Sam’s features hidden from the audience, but she could see the first few rows clearly, including Lisa and Helene’s row. She played as Ronnie came on stage as Tevye and spoke directly to the audience. The backlighting subtly moved to the front, illuminating both Ronnie’s and Sam’s faces. Sam was surprised she could still see the people in the first rows clearly.

  “Samtha!” Bridget yelled and pointed. “Wook, Weesa. Samtha!”

  Several people chuckled at Lisa’s three-year-old sister, and it was all Sam could do not to smile. She spotted Lisa’s gaze riveted on her. Lisa put a hand over her heart and patted it a few times. Sam read the message loud and clear, wishing she had a way to signal back.

  Sam was surprised to see Helene dabbing at the corner of her eyes with a wadded up tissue. Before she lost it, too, Sam forced herself to focus her attention on Ronnie. He moved stage right, and beyond him, seated in the well-lit first
row, were her parents. They were still wearing their coats, and they were not smiling.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A Payton After All

  SAM PLACED A hunk of Brie between two slices of French bread buttered on the outside. She lifted the lid of her mother’s George Foreman grill and placed the sandwich inside. It wasn’t the exact recipe Lisa had shown her, but the Payton household didn’t stock American cheese and white bread. As she made a second sandwich for Helene, she thought about the last performance of the play later on that day. Well, to be honest, her thoughts drifted to the wrap-up party at Ronnie’s house after the play. She hoped her parents would let her go. Maybe then she could finally spend time with Lisa. Ronnie had helped sneak Lisa backstage after the Friday night performance, and then again after both Saturday performances, but with dozens of people milling around Sam had to settle for giving Lisa a quick hug and small talk. She didn’t want to upset anybody’s sensibilities by dragging Lisa into a bathroom stall to kiss her properly. Especially not since her parents were waiting in the auditorium to take her home each time. Something had to give, though, and soon. A month was way too long and way too tortuous to let Lisa’s lips stay unkissed.

  Sam blew out a sigh and checked her sandwiches. “This wasn’t what you had in mind, was it?” Sam mumbled. Not only was she referring to the sandwich recipe, but to their budding relationship as well.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  Sam jumped when her mother spoke. “You startled me, Mother. I’m making lunch. Grilled Brie on French bread.” And I completely didn’t answer your question.

  Sam’s mother wore an expensive exercise outfit which Sam thought was better suited for a fashion runway than for an actual work out. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Let me make a sandwich for you.” Sam unwrapped the loaf of bread knowing full well her mother would decline.

  “No, I’m not hungry. Stefan will be here soon, and I was heading to the treadmill to get a head start.” Stefan was Sam’s mother’s personal fitness trainer who got paid handsomely to come to the mansion three times a week and watch her mother walk on the treadmill and lift one-pound weights.

  “Mother, you need to eat.” As soon as the words were out, Sam wished she had phrased it differently. She tried again. “Would you like some chicken soup instead?”

  “Oh, all right. A little soup won’t hurt. Shall I get out two bowls?”

  “You know what?” Sam said. “Can you get out four?”

  “Four?”

  “You, me, and Daddy are going to eat lunch with Helene today. Helene’s leaving in less than a month, and at least here in the house we can stop pretending she’s the hired help.”

  Sam’s mother raised an eyebrow as if surprised by Sam’s bold statement. She was silent for so long that Sam wasn’t sure what to do. She decided to wait her mother out and quietly stirred the soup.

  Her mother broke the silence. ”I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Your father has a business meeting downtown today.”

  “On a Sunday?”

  “You know what he always says.”

  “Business waits for no man,” Sam imitated her father.

  “Hey, who’s making fun of me?” Her father stepped into the cavernous kitchen.

  “Just me,” Sam said.

  He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a sparkling water.

  “Hey, Daddy?”

  “Yes, Kitten?”

  “Can you get out three more waters?”

  “Thirsty?”

  Sam chuckled. “No, I’m hosting a lunch for you, Mother, and Helene. In fact, Helene will be here in a minute.”

  “I have a business—“

  “Which can wait,” Sam interrupted and then wondered who had taken over her body to make her interrupt her father like that. “You are having lunch with your family.” Sam hoped she hadn’t overstepped and gotten herself grounded until she was twenty one. She pulled the loaf of bread back out of its sleeve and cut enough slices for more sandwiches. She was even going to make one for her mother, though it would probably go uneaten.

  “Mother,” her father said, “I believe our daughter has me wrapped around her little finger. Okay, then.” He seemed amused when he turned to Sam. “What are you serving for lunch?”

  “Soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.”

  “Where in the world did you learn to make grilled cheese sandwiches?” He stroked his chin.

  Sam didn’t meet her father’s eyes when she said, “At my friend Lisa’s house.” She groaned inside, ashamed of wimping out and reducing Lisa to just a friend.

  Sam’s mother, who had begun pulling china plates and bowls out of the sideboard, stood up at the mention of Lisa’s name. “Is Lisa your close friend?”

  “Yes.” Sam wanted to say so much more, but couldn’t think of a way to say any of it. Her parents must have been trying to figure out which one of her friends at the pool party was her girlfriend, or, as her mother put it, her ‘close friend.’ But then again, her father had tracked her through her phone and knew she spent a lot of time at Lisa’s house. He’d probably checked out Lisa and her family the way he’d checked out William and Evelyn. The more she thought about that, the angrier she got. Her hands shook as she fussed with the sandwiches.

  Her father cleared his throat. “We’d like to meet her again one of these days. Wouldn’t we, Mother?”

  “Yes, of course,” Sam’s mother said stiffly. “That would be fine.”

  The growing silence could definitely be described as awkward, so Sam’s tougher stuff asserted itself and she said, “Lisa does a lot of cooking for her family. She taught me how to make meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

  “Well, well,” her father said. “What do you think of that, Mother?”

  “I think it will come in handy when she goes off to Wellesley.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” he said.

  Sam checked the sandwiches on the grill as she tried to decide how far she could push her parents. If she ever hoped to see Lisa again, she needed to chill out, but, God, it felt good to talk about her at least for a minute.

  Sam stirred the soup, determined it was hot enough, and ladled equal portions into the four soup bowls her mother had lined up on a tray.

  “Daddy, can you get the oyster crackers from the pantry?”

  He looked lost for a moment as if he didn’t know where the pantry was.

  Sam laughed and pointed to the walk-in pantry. “Middle shelf, right side.”

  “Ah.” He walked over and pulled them out. “I didn’t know where we kept them.” He put the crackers on the tray with the soup bowls. “Speaking of college, I got an interesting call from your guidance counselor last week. She said you insisted on applying to Rockville College in Cayuga County.”

  “Rockville College?” Sam’s mother asked.

  “Mm hmm,” Sam said calmly. She had hoped to have an acceptance letter in her hand before talking to her parents about Rockville. “You remember last year when I went to the All State Orchestra Festival? That was at Rockville College.”

  Sam’s mother’s face brightened. “Gerald, the Wright School of Music is housed at Rockville. Isn’t that right, Samantha Rose?”

  Sam nodded.

  “Does this mean...” her mother put a hand up to her throat and looked expectantly at Sam.

  Sam nodded again. “Yes, Mother. You’ll be happy to know I’m pretty sure I want to major in music.”

  “Very good.” Sam’s mother’s mood lightened considerably until she added, “Wellesley has an excellent music department as well.”

  “I know mother, but—“

  “And they have one of those softball teams, too.”

  Sam almost laughed at the way her mother was trying to make her alma mater sound appealing.

  “I’ll tell you what, Mother. I’ll give both schools equal consideration, okay?” If I’m even given a choice, that is.

  Sam’s mother nodded. “That sounds fair. Now, Sam
antha Rose, I don’t want you to be angry with me.”

  “Why would I be angry with you, Mother?”

  “I found some pamphlets in your room.”

  Sam’s heart sank. Her mother had found that stupid STD pamphlet in her top desk drawer. Something in Sam’s brain shifted. Wait. Her mother had been searching her room, invading her privacy.

  Sam must have had a look of outrage on her face because her mother hastened to add, “It was only the one drawer, I promise. I don’t usually snoop, but I was concerned about you.” She paused for a moment as if trying to find the right words. “I found a pamphlet about a group called P-F-L-A-G.”

  “PFLAG? Parents, Families, and Friends of –“

  “Lesbians and Gays,” her father said the words slowly as if wary of their meaning. “I’ve looked into the group and they’re legit. I’m meeting one of their representatives in less than an hour.”

  Sam was stunned. “That’s your business meeting?” His casual khakis, mauve button down shirt, and loafers made sense. Wearing such casual attire meant he didn’t take the group too seriously; otherwise he would be wearing a suit.

  Her father held his lips closed and nodded. “I’m trying to figure out what my daughter has gotten herself into with this lifestyle choice.”

  I didn’t choose it, Daddy. It chose me! She wanted to shout the words at him, but her father was on a roll, and it was best not to interrupt him.

  “And,” her father continued, “your mother and I will accompany you to your next session with Dr. Boyle on Tuesday.” He clapped his hands together once. “Now that that’s taken care of, let’s get this lunch thing going.” Apparently, the discussion about Sam’s lifestyle choice was finished. “Rolando should be here any minute.”

  “Did he get that tire fixed?” Sam’s mother asked her father.

  “Yes.” Her father looked at Sam. “Rolando’s car had a blow out on the way to your performance Friday night. That’s why we were late.”

  “Ah,” Sam said, “I saw you in the front row. You still had your coats on.”

  Her mother nodded. “We made it just as the curtain opened. We were so cold and miserable, we left our coats on for the entire first act.