Sing it, Sam

by Jennifer Ryder

  “Please call me next time you’re thinking about leaving your house.” Leonie winks at Hannah.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Hannah smiles.

  Leonie turns to face me, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. “How ’bout you, Jane? Anything exciting happening with your whip?”

  I tilt my head to the side. “My whip?” I don’t even own a whip. Sure, I know how to crack one, Dad taught me well, but how did the conversation turn like this?

  “As in, work in progress,” Janice blurts out. “W-I-P.”

  “Oh, of course,” I reply, and shake my head as if I knew that but just had a slip in concentration. Amateur moment, right there. “Not quite as exciting as Hannah’s. I’ve had trouble focusing this week. We lost a resident yesterday. Kind of brought back feelings from when I lost my nan.”

  “You should take the positive out of this, Jane,” Janice says, as if I should be thinking rationally.

  “How can there be a positive?” I huff.

  “All these emotions you’re experiencing—you need to tap into them. Even if it has no relevance to your current WIP, write it all down. Thoughts, physical reactions—everything,” Janice says, looking around the group.

  “You know, sometimes writing about something not directly related to your current project, can really help untap your inner writer,” Hannah adds.

  I rub at my eyes and breathe deeply in and out. Are they crazy? Should I have boycotted today’s meeting? I’m no further advanced, and I’m not sure I’m in the right frame of mind to be here.

  “How about we talk about something else?” Leonie says in a comforting tone. She toys with her long silver pendant and tilts her head to the side as she looks me up and down. “What about Sam? Yeah. We should talk about him.”

  “What about Sam?” I ask with a shrug.

  “Any stolen glances, butterflies? What’s the story?” She flutters her eyelashes at me, as if hopeful I’ll tell her all about a budding romance.

  I take a moment to think of how to respond without giving too much away. My face heats up as I recall my tongue in his mouth. “We’re getting to know each other,” I finally spit out.

  “Heaps of great relationships start between friends,” Leonie says. “Everyone loves a good friends-to-lovers trope.”

  “I don’t buy it,” Britt says. “Your face is redder than a cooked lobster. Something’s happened between you two. I’m sensing there’s been a shift.” She narrows her grey–blue eyes and leans in close, never breaking eye contact. “There’s some uncertainty. On his part?”

  What, is she psychic or something?

  I look among the faces of my fellow writers and realise I can’t fool them. Besides, who else have I got to talk to about this stuff? Damn you, travelling BFFs. “Okay, we kissed,” I admit.

  “Really?” Britt says, and runs her hands back through her dreadlocks. “I was right?”

  “On the money,” I add with a sigh.

  “Good for you,” Leonie coos and taps me on the back.

  A coy smile tugs at the corner of Hannah’s mouth. Janice takes a few sips of her coffee, focusing on the saucer when she puts the cup down.

  “I just don’t know if I should have, I mean.” I puff out a breath.

  “What are you worried about?” Leonie says. “If you’re concerned about making the first move, don’t be. That’s how I hooked Matt. We’ve never looked back.”

  “It’s not that. I mean, yeah, I feel like I might’ve overstepped the boundaries with him, but more so, I really like him. More than any guy I’ve dated, if I’m honest. If he likes me as more than a friend, which I’m not entirely sure of, then how is our relationship going to work? What kind of life would we have together if he’s stuck in the home?”

  I threw myself at him. There was little resistance on Sam’s part, but his reaction wasn’t what I was expecting. I probably should’ve stayed and talked it out, but I’d needed to get out of there. Call it a protective measure.

  “Love can overcome any barrier,” Janice barks. “Quoting my own work, there,” she says and winks. “I can gift you a copy of my debut if you like.”

  Any opportunity to work herself into the conversation. I’m beginning to see why Hannah and her butt heads from time to time. I smile politely and nod, unsure of what to say.

  “Love’s not always easy,” Britt says and bites at her thumbnail. My stomach takes a dive. Losing a loved one to cancer … well, that sucks so bad. I can’t even comprehend what that must’ve been like. And here I am harping on about a kiss.

  I reach across the table and place my hand over hers.

  She grips my hand tight. “Not everyone sees you for who you are. Finding someone who can truly appreciate you, know you, and accept you is a rare gift. The universe has a plan for each of us. Sometimes, that plan is fucked up, I can attest to that, but what I see here, Jane, is that the plan for you started with you getting this job. You were meant to cross paths with Sam.”

  I was? How does she know this?

  “What now, though?” I ask, looking at the knowledgeable faces around the table.

  “You know what you need to do?” Janice barks and places both palms down hard on the table.

  “What’s that?” I ask, directing my gaze to Janice.

  “Own it. Walk right into his room and say, ‘Yeah, I kissed you. What are you gonna do about it?’”

  “That’s not my style,” I say with a shake of my head.

  “Yeah, I have to disagree with you, Janice,” Hannah says shooting her a curt look. She pushes her glasses higher up her nose, almost hiding her thick, dark brows. “Just talk to him about it,” she says with a comforting smile. “Whatever feels right for you. No need to go in all guns blazing.”

  ***

  That night, all I can think about is what will happen when I see Sam on Monday. Three likely scenarios run through my mind.

  He pulls me into his arms and kisses me until I’m breathless;

  He tells me he just wants to be friends, breaking my heart; or

  He tells me he thinks it’s best we stop spending time together and breaks my heart in the process.

  So, I have a thirty-three and a third percent chance of coming out of this with my heart intact. I’m not a huge fan of those odds.

  If Sam does have feelings for me, then what next? Will he be a resident in the home long-term? If so, will our relationship be able to become more physical in time, or if it can’t, will we be trapped in the friend zone? If he recovers quickly, will he want to stay in Willow Creek or will he move back to the city? He has no house here, no job, no family. I might be the only thing keeping him in town. A man with such potential—would it be fair to hold him back?

  There are so many possibilities, so many unknowns. I need to stop getting ahead of myself. If Sam and I start to get serious then it will have to move slowly. We’ll just have to deal with it, day by day. Fingers crossed Kathleen will be okay with it.

  All of this is hypothetical, though.

  To distract myself, I sit at my desk and turn on my laptop. I resist the urge to open Facebook and go straight to Word and open my WIP.

  When I think about writing more of Brandon and Ally’s story, my brain seizes up. I’m not in the right headspace.

  Mrs Ferguson had her beau, her knight in shining armour, at one point in her life. She had to bury her husband and continue on. As far as I’m concerned, it ended far too soon. But are you ever really ready to lose a loved one?

  I take Janice’s advice and channel my emotions into my words. These words may not ever see the light of day, and truthfully, I don’t care. Something deep inside me is driving me to express what’s going on in my heart and in my head. I owe it to Mrs Ferguson, almost as a mark of respect. In a small amount of time, she had an impact on me.

  Tears flow as I write about how crushed I was to hear of her sudden passing. How devastated I was to discover that her family had abandoned her in her final years.

  When my head hits the
pillow later that evening, in silent prayer I remember Mrs Ferguson, but take comfort at the thought of her being reunited with her man.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The first opportunity I get the next day, wearing a fresh coat of what Sam calls my goth lip gloss, I summon my courage to visit him. Of course, I have to wait until after lunch because Sally-Anne didn’t make it in this morning. Gastro is making its way through her household. Gross.

  My heart pounds harder with every step I take. Regardless of the outcome, I need to know where Sam and I stand. Being in limbo and over-analysing the ‘what ifs’ will only drive me crazy.

  As I knock softly on his door, a set of lazy blue eyes glance up at me from a cosy position between the sheets. On cue, butterflies whip around in my stomach. My feet itch to step back but I coax them forward. “Hey,” I say as I approach, closing the door most of the way.

  A smile tugs at his lips. Sunlight gleams into the room, highlighting the stubble on his jaw. “Hey, there,” he says in a teasing tone.

  The fact that he’s in a good mood catches me off guard. Maybe the odds are looking upwards of thirty-three and a third percent.

  “So, I kissed you,” I blurt out, and search his eyes for a sign of what he’s thinking.

  “Yup,” he says, popping the P. “You did.”

  “That’s no big deal, right?” I place a hand to my hip, pushing it out to the side.

  Sam’s brows draw together. He crooks a finger, inviting me to come closer. My lead feet shuffle across the floor until I reach his side.

  “Why do you say that?” he probes.

  “Because …” Use your words, Jane.

  “You kiss someone like that with your sweet mouth, and you’re telling me that’s nothing?”

  Sheesh. He should be the one writing romance, not me.

  “What are you gonna do about it?” The words spill from my mouth. I’m mimicking Janice. I shake my head. That’s not me, and it’s certainly not how I wanted to approach this. Breathe. Channel Hannah. “I mean, what did you think? Honestly.”

  “It took me by surprise.”

  I tilt my head to the side, trying to gauge him. “A good surprise?” I ask in a higher-pitched tone.

  “Yeah, Janie.”

  My heart thrashes in my chest, but then my thoughts take over—all the variables of the hows and whens. “I just …” I draw in a deep breath and perch on the edge of the bed.

  Sam offers me his hand. I shuffle up and take it in mine. He slides his other arm around my waist. This simple touch has my pulse racing. I take shallow breaths, trying to hide how much his touch affects me, makes me want to forget where I am.

  “You just wanna do it again? You can say it,” he says, his voice rough.

  I rest my forehead against his. “Sam,”' I say and sigh. His arm tightens around my waist, pulling me to his chest.

  “Don’t think, Janie. Life is short. Kiss the boy.”

  I stare into his blue orbs, searching. Searching for a sign.

  “Do it,” he mouths. His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip.

  Life is short. Life is fleeting. But love is everlasting, and that’s worth taking a chance on, whatever challenges we may face.

  I dive in. Lips first.

  As our mouths connect, heat radiates through me, fighting against the goosebumps that roll over my body. His stubble grazes against my skin. Warm hands wander up my sides. My fingers ache with the need to touch him, wandering down his chest over the taut surface of his stomach.

  Each soft movement of our lips, our tongues, blocks out everything else. Inhibitions become non-existent. His fingers tangle at the hair at my nape, holding me with a strength that forces air to rush from my lungs and out my nose.

  It’s never been like this with anyone. No man has ever kissed me with such abandon. It’s as if this kiss might be his last.

  I’m falling for him.

  A sharp pang in my chest has me clawing at his waist. Our kisses grow feverish. Sam bites at my lower lip, drawing a groan from my mouth.

  “A word, Miss Rhynehart,” a familiar voice says from behind me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Frozen in place, I squeeze my eyes shut. This isn’t happening.

  When I open my eyes, Sam is staring back at me, his face flushed. “Whoops,” he whispers.

  My veins fill with dread. This is happening. I’ve been caught snogging a resident. By my boss. I’m in deep shit.

  Slowly, I pry myself from Sam’s embrace and turn to Kathleen. With my sweaty palms, I smooth the crinkled edges of my dress on my hips. “Kathleen,” I choke out. “I’m—”

  “My office,” Kathleen interrupts, in a tone she could have blueprinted from my mother. She turns on her heel and rushes from the room, her shoes clicking down the hall.

  I swing my head back to find Sam biting down on his lower lip. He chuckles. It makes me want to slap him. “You just got schooled,” he says.

  I glare at him. “No shit,” I whisper and rush from the room, sheepishly following my boss to her office where I take a seat opposite her. It’s as if I’m a naughty teenager about to be grounded. My stomach sinks. She expects a lot of her staff. I’ve mucked up on this one. I can’t afford for this to end badly.

  “Jane,” Kathleen says on an exhale. She places her hands out in front and presses her palms together. Her lips pull into a straight line.

  “Yes, Kathleen.” I nod and straighten my spine. Now is the time to listen so I give her my full attention.

  “I’m all for young love, don’t get me wrong, but you need to have some decorum around here.”

  Please don’t let me lose my job over this. “I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice cracking with each word. “It was out of line. Unprofessional.” But I couldn’t stop myself. I squeeze my hands together in my lap.

  “You’re right. It was. I hope we don’t have to have a chat like this again.”

  “No, I hear you loud and clear.” I cross my legs, and then uncross them.

  Kathleen stares at me for a moment. After a pause, her face softens. “Of course. Now, what I’m about to say next is between you and me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I tilt forward in my chair. “Between you and me?”

  “Yes. What if I was to suggest that maybe, upon medical advice, of course, you took Mr Marshall out one afternoon?”

  My pulse quickens. She would seriously let me do that?

  “I’d say that sounds amazing,” I blurt out.

  “It’d be off the clock, though. You’d have to make up the time. I’m happy for you to use the mini bus, as long as you don’t travel too far.”

  “Of course.”

  Kathleen lets out a heavy breath. “If things start to get more serious between you two, I don’t mind, as long as it doesn’t interfere with your work.”

  “You got it.” My heart races. She’s giving us her blessing. This is huge. I can’t wait to get Sam out of here. And finally be alone with him.

  “Now, while you were busy,” Kathleen says, her lips curving up on one side, “the printing delivery came. If you can neatly stack the boxes in groups at the back of the office, we’ll get to those tomorrow.”

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  ***

  The afternoon is torture. After sorting and stacking boxes, I just want to leave the office and walk around but I can’t, because any moment Kathleen will be meeting with family members to help settle in a new resident. It’s practically ‘dead one day, your room is filled’ the next around here. To add to the torture, I can’t stop thinking of Sam.

  That kiss.

  Just the memory of his soft lips against mine has my head in a tailspin and my body wanting with need. Some alone time in the bath tonight is warranted …

  To shift my brain back into work mode, I google some ideas for the upcoming social calendar. I look at other aged-care facilities and see what they’ve done. Bringing in animals seems to be popular.

  The sliding do
ors open. An elderly Asian lady enters with two tall men supporting her. The men are also of Asian appearance, dressed in suits with a suitcase each. By the lines across their foreheads and crinkles at the corners of their eyes, I’m guessing they’re in their forties or fifties. By the scowls on their faces, it’s evident they aren’t too pleased to be here.

  “This is my mother, Mrs Lee,” one of the gentlemen says in robotic English as he places the suitcase at his feet. The skin between his dark brows puckers.

  I stand and nod. “Hello, Mrs Lee,” I say, trying to coax her eyes upwards, but they’re transfixed to the counter in front of her. I smile at the man who just spoke, but he doesn’t return the gesture. Instead, his lips form a hard line. It takes me off guard. “I’ll just get Kathleen, the manager. Please. If you wouldn’t mind taking a seat over there”—I motion towards the couch—“I’ll let her know you’re here.”

  The three of them move over to the couch to the side of reception. I buzz Kathleen and inform her that her next appointment has arrived.

  The family speaks to each other quietly in their foreign tongue, which I’m guessing is Chinese. The woman howls and the men shroud her in an embrace as she sobs into a delicate lace handkerchief. The men stare at each other over the top of her head. Tension radiates off them in waves.

  My heart pangs as I watch a family come to terms with what must be such a trying time. From what my parents told me, Nan wasn’t happy with the idea of moving into a home at first. She didn’t want to lose her independence, but over time, as she got involved and found her place, she made this place her home.

  Kathleen greets the family in reception and ushers them to her office.

  I grab a fluoro pink Post-It note and write down Mrs Lee—interests? and stick it next to my diary as a reminder to discuss this with Kathleen later.