Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sam
‘Iwouldn’t want you to be too far away,’ Jacob said, wrapping his arms around Sam as he sat on the edge of his bed.
Kaleb looked out the window that was covered in fat raindrops. ‘I wouldn’t either, but I get it. Moving about all the time sucks. And it’s not fair how Mum gets to decide for all of us.’
‘Well, you know why that is.’ Sam held Jacob close. ‘I’m not your biological dad. Officially I don’t have a say.’
‘Do we have a say?’ Kaleb asked, swiping his hair off his face.
Sam let out a sigh. ‘You do, but the law will always come down against me. And it’s not like I want to separate you from your mum.
I want you to have the best of what I can give you.
And right now, I feel this house is the best place I can offer.
I can’t guarantee I’ll ever find a place like this again.
If you have to move further away, then I’ll make every effort to see you as often as possible.
And during every holiday, you can come here for as long as you want. ’
Because Olive would always need the childcare.
‘Ok.’ Jacob cuddled in, and Sam kissed his soft sandy brown hair. ‘I love you, Dad.’
‘I love you too. Both of you.’
Kaleb came over from his bed and sat beside Sam. They group-hugged.
‘Maybe we should all just hope that your mum gets a job nearby.’
Kaleb held up crossed fingers. ‘Will you talk to her about it? She doesn’t like me saying anything.’
Sam nodded. He never found her receptive to anything he had to say these days, but for the boys he would try.
‘Let’s get downstairs. You can spend a little while with Grandma and the others before they go.’
Sam had thought he’d heard the door while he was talking to the boys and assumed Clara was back, but when he got downstairs, she wasn’t there.
‘Where is she?’ Sam checked the time on his phone, his thumb tapping restlessly against the screen. His mum and Claire needed to leave soon. Clara had said she’d be half an hour – and that had been almost an hour ago.
‘Wherever she’s got to, she’ll be very wet.’ Moira peered out of the window. Rain streaked down the glass, the world outside blurred and grey. ‘Maybe she’s taking shelter under the trees.’
‘Possibly.’ The word came out tight. Sam pushed a hand through his hair and started pacing.
Kaleb and Jacob had gone into the dining room, where Mina and Alisha were playing Uno.
Sam watched them through the glass doors as they sat down, and Alisha gave them some cards.
Claire scrolled through her phone, but her eyes flicked to the clock every few minutes.
They had a long drive ahead, and the delay was making everyone fidgety.
‘Not fair,’ Mina shouted from the room next door. ‘That’s cheating!’
‘No, it isn’t,’ Alisha said. ‘I didn’t mean to look.’
‘Hey, play nice through there.’ Claire didn’t look up. Her voice was calm but taut, fingers fiddling with the ends of her caramel blonde waves. After a moment, she glanced at Sam. ‘Try calling her.’
He hesitated, phone in hand. His thumb hovered over Clara’s name – that familiar smiling face on the contact photo – and his chest constricted.
He wanted to know she was all right. But what if she just needed space?
What if he came across as pushy or controlling?
The ghost of old habits stirred – the quiet fear that he might say or do the wrong thing, the way he’d always felt with Olive.
But Clara wasn’t Olive. She wouldn’t make him second-guess himself like this.
He took a breath and stepped into the kitchen, away from the chatter of the living room. The rain hammered harder against the window, a dull, relentless rhythm that only amplified the silence between each ring as he pressed call.
One ring. Two. Three.
His pulse quickened, a dull thud in his ears. He pressed the phone tighter against his head, listening so hard it almost hurt.
Four rings. Five.
The noise of the house – his nieces laughing, his mum speaking softly – faded into a blur. All he could hear was the hollow sound of the call tone, stretching out like a thread about to snap.
Then a click. Relief flared for half a second – before Clara’s recorded voice came through.
‘Hi, it’s Clara here. I can’t come to the phone right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.’
The beep that followed was sharp, final.
‘Hey, just wondering where you are,’ he said, trying to keep his tone light. ‘Hope you’re ok. Mum and Claire need to head off soon.’
He lowered the phone slowly, staring at the dark screen. The silence that followed wasn’t peaceful. It pressed against his ribs – heavy, uneasy, and full of questions he didn’t want to ask out loud.
Grinding his teeth, he scrolled down until he got to Olive’s name. This might take his mind off Clara for a moment, but it was unlikely to be pleasant.
He hit connect, half hoping this call would also go to voicemail, but she picked up on the second ring.
‘Hi. What’s up? Are the boys ok?’
‘They’re fine, but I need to talk to you about something.’
‘What?’ Her voice sounded cold, and he wondered what it was he’d ever seen in her. All the love he’d once felt had been stubbed out long ago.
‘I’ve spoken to the boys this morning and told them that… Well, if you move again, I won’t be moving too.’
A silence followed. ‘It’s your call, I guess. But didn’t you always say you’d be there for them?’
He tried not to grind his teeth. ‘I will be. I’ve told them I’ll always be here for them. I’ll come and see them as often as I can. They can visit whenever they want.’
‘And what about when I’m working?’
‘You can pay for childcare.’
‘My god. I never thought that you, of all people, would be so selfish.’
His fist, not holding the phone, balled. How could she call him that? But this was the story of their relationship. She always made him feel like he was in the wrong.
‘I’m not being selfish. But I do have to consider my own health in this.
I’ve found a forever home. The boys are always welcome here.
You’ve always made it blatantly clear that I’m not their “real” dad.
’ He air-quoted even though she obviously couldn’t see him.
‘So, I have no rights or legal say in their future. But I know my relationship with them is strong enough to get through this. They’re both getting older.
’ Which meant she wouldn’t need someone to mind them.
And there was every chance she’d attempt to cut the connection then anyway.
‘Fine. If that’s your choice.’ The way she said it sounded almost like a threat.
‘It’s what I’ve discussed with them, and they’re both onboard.
They’re not overly happy with the idea. Moving around all the time isn’t a bundle of laughs for them.
And speaking as their father, which really, Olive, is what I am in everything but genes, I would like it if you took a more active interest in their needs and opinions before you move again. ’
‘Excuse me? How dare you? You’re telling me how to raise my kids.’
‘Our kids. Because I’ve been there every step of the way.’
‘There’s no way you’ve done as much as me.’
‘Maybe, but I’ve done as much as I can. As much as I’ve been allowed to.’
‘Oh, listen to yourself. But you know with my job I can’t guarantee where I go next.’
‘Of course, I get that. But it’s not my problem. I can’t be a slave to your choices anymore. I’ll always do what I can for my sons, but that doesn’t mean being at your beck and call.’
‘I’m not listening to anymore of this.’
The phone went dead, and Sam stared at it, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was pounding. Almost immediately the old sense of guilt crept in, poking at him and making him replay the whole conversation. Had he been cruel? Was he selfish?
Maybe all of this was wrong.
His insides shrivelled further when he saw no response from Clara.
Returning to the living room, he caught his mum’s questioning eyes the moment he stepped through the door. One small shake of his head was all it took for her expression to soften with concern.
‘Who were you talking to then?’
‘Olive.’
‘Oh… what did she say?’
He gave a little shrug, his heart still feeling bruised and achy. ‘Nothing pleasant.’ He’d really done it now. She might want to restrict his access to the boys, and that thought was agony. At least if Clara was here, she would talk to him. Help him understand.
Where was she?
He needed her back. Safe. In his arms. That was it. That was everything.
He crossed to the window again. Rain poured down in relentless sheets, hammering against the glass.
Somewhere outside, a siren wailed – faint at first, then rising in pitch as it drew closer.
A spike of dread shot through him. His throat tightened.
What if that was connected to her? What if she’d been in an accident?
His mind scrambled through possibilities, none of them good.
He wasn’t usually like this – he prided himself on being steady, rational.
But the conversation with Olive had unsettled him, and not knowing where Clara was had become unbearable.
The sound of that siren dragged him backward through time, straight to another day filled with waiting.
The same heavy silence in the room. The same glances between his family members, who didn’t dare to say what they feared most. He could almost see himself sitting there years ago, a young man with clenched fists, staring at the door, hoping for news that never came.
That long night when his dad didn’t come home.
The memory struck hard, almost winded him.
A gentle hand landed on his arm. ‘Don’t fret, love,’ his mum said softly. ‘I’m sure Clara’s just got held up somewhere.’
Sam nodded, but the reassurance didn’t reach him. The heaviness in his chest wouldn’t shift. Too many things were happening in there. ‘Maybe you should just head off and not wait,’ he muttered.
‘No,’ Claire said from the sofa. ‘I want to know she’s ok too.’
‘We’ve got a while yet. And we’re all worried.’ Moira gave his arm a light squeeze and nodded towards the seat beside Claire. ‘How can we not be? Sit for a minute. You’re pacing holes in the floor.’
He sank down, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand through his hair. ‘I know I’m probably overreacting. It’s just… I’m worried, and that call didn’t help.’
‘That’s because you care,’ his mum said simply. ‘About everyone. And believe me, I know how you feel.’
He put his arm around her, knowing she too was remembering the night they lost Dad.
The shrill ring of his phone made him jump. His heart leapt into his throat. He fumbled the phone from his pocket, almost dropping it in his haste. ‘It’s her.’ He jabbed at the green button. ‘Clara? Are you ok?’
‘I’m fine,’ came her voice – slightly breathless, but alive. ‘Well, I’m utterly soaked and freezing, but I’m ok. I’ve been helping a lady who fell. The ambulance just arrived, and she’s getting in.’
Relief punched through him so hard it made him dizzy. He was already on his feet. ‘Where are you?’
‘At the bridge in the woods.’
‘I’ll drive down and meet you.’
‘You can’t bring the car in. It was hard enough getting the ambulance in.’
‘I can park at the entrance. I’ll meet you there.’
He ended the call before she could argue, bounding up the stairs two at a time. He grabbed a backpack and stuffed it with a towel, a blanket, and an old t-shirt; his fingers were clumsy, his pulse roaring in his ears.
When he thudded back down, his mum, Claire, and Kaleb were waiting by the door.
‘What’s happened?’ Claire asked, her eyes wide.
‘She’s soaked and cold. I’m going to get her.’
‘Is it Clara?’ Kaleb asked.
‘Yes.’ Sam gave him a quick hug. ‘I’ll be back soon.’
‘Be careful, love,’ Moira called after him, but he was already halfway out the door.
Rain hit him full in the face as he sprinted to the car. His trainers splashed through puddles, jacket flapping, breath burning in his throat. He needed to get to Clara. Nothing else seemed to matter, except holding her and telling her just how much she meant to him.