Chapter 47
BLYTHE
“Sam?” Maggi interrupts, and I resist the urge to peek into her bedroom from where I’m standing in the hallway, listening to Sam read my daughter a bedtime story. Or rather, the second bedtime story of the night.
“Yeah?” he whispers back.
“When we go back to the castle, will you search for Nessie with me?”
I hold my breath, waiting to see how Sam answers.
“I would love to do that, princess,” he says, and I sink back into the wall practically swooning because I can hear the smile in his voice.
I fell all the way in love with Sam Keefer tonight when he was sitting on the couch next to Maggi with an old family album balanced on his lap.
I tried to deter Maggi from bringing it over when I saw what she was doing, but Sam said he’d love to see it.
And then he sat there while Maggi took him on a tour of her father’s childhood.
Next came family pictures from his teen years and finally the picture book we’d made his parents after our wedding.
“Isn’t Mommy pretty?” she said, pointing at a black and white portrait that had been taken before the ceremony.
“The prettiest,” Sam replied softly, his eyes finding me across the room where I sat watching awkwardly.
Next, there was an album of Maggi—Eric fading from the pages far too soon. The last picture the one I’d taken that morning. Maggi pointed at it and proudly declared that it was their last picture together. She’d heard it enough from us. Had been told how special it was.
When I told Maggi it was time for bed, she hadn’t put up a fight; she only asked if Sam could read her a bedtime story, and when I tried to join, she asked me to wait outside, by which she probably meant the hallway. It stung a little bit, but at the same time relief bloomed through my chest.
“Do you think you can try and fall asleep now?” Sam asks.
I can hear the sheets rustling and the sound of a book being slid back onto a shelf, and then Maggi quietly asks a question that makes my heart stop.
“Will you sing me a bedtime song?”
Sam clears his throat, and I prepare to reveal myself in order to save him. But then I hear him quietly begin to sing.
My eyes sting from the tears when I recognize what he’s singing.
It was one of Eric’s go-tos. I can’t even remember the name of it because I haven’t heard it since his death.
But the fact Sam is singing it to my daughter has me hurrying down the hall, then the stairs, and straight out the front door.
When the cool night air hits me, I come to a stop, taking a deep, stuttering breath and wiping my face in frustration. The stone is cold beneath my socked feet, and I focus on that instead of why I’m having this reaction. After all, I pushed for this. I opened this damn door.
The door opens and then softly clicks shut, and I’m afraid to look up because I’m not ready to see Sam.
“Blythe?” Martha’s soft voice has me looking away from my toes. She’s standing there with her cardigan pulled tight around herself, and I realize it’s actually far too cold to be standing outside in only socks.
“I’m sorry, I…” I don’t know how to express how I’m feeling right now.
How do I explain to Eric’s mother that the man I’m envisioning a future with keeps pulling me back to Eric?
The way he is with Maggi. The fact he was Eric’s favourite player.
The damn song. I had been falling in love with him since the very beginning, but I’m struggling with why.
Martha doesn’t wait for me to find my words. Instead, she wraps her arms around me and pulls me in tight.
“He would be so happy for you, Blythe,” she whispers, her hand working in small circles on my back.
“He should be here,” I sniffle.
“But he’s not. And he’s not coming back.
If missing someone could bring them back, he’d have only been gone for an hour.
But”—she pulls back, her hands gripping my upper arms—“Sam looks at you the same way Eric did. It’s obvious how he feels about Maggi too.
But what’s more is the way you look at him. ”
I narrow my eyes, trying to understand what she means.
“You look at peace.” She shrugs. “I don’t know how else to describe it, but it’s like years melt away. All that grief and responsibility you’ve been carrying seems less weighty, like you’ve found someone to help you carry it. And that’s all Thomas and I have wanted for you.”
“I know, and I’m so grateful. And I’ve been fine with the idea. But it’s happening, and it all feels so easy…too easy.” It all comes out as a whimper, and I wonder how damn pathetic I sound.
“Was it hard with Eric?” she asks with a raise of her eyebrow.
Shaking my head, I look to the clear night sky where the stars are barely visible. “No. I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t hard. There was a learning curve. Both of us learning how to be adults and then how to be adults together.”
“You and Sam have been adults for a while now. I’m sure there will be a whole new learning curve.
Things you need to learn how to accept about one another and all that fun stuff.
Hell, he’s getting quite an education already with Mags.
But the important thing is, he absolutely wants that education. ”
“He said he never wanted kids,” I say, still trying to find a reason for my reaction.
“I didn’t either. And Eric said for the longest time he didn’t want to get married.
Then one day he shows up with this beautiful young woman from Canada, and after you two left, Thomas looked at me and told me that I better get my mom’s ring cleaned.
Sometimes the right person can change everything for us. Not always, but sometimes.”
“What if he wakes up one day and we’re not what he wants?”
“What if he goes to work one day and never comes home?” she asks, not missing a beat.
“Life is unpredictable, Blythe. You’ve got to hold onto the good while you can.
You survived once. I have no doubt you’d survive again.
But chances are good that you won’t need to. Please live. Be in love. Be happy.”
“He is pretty great.” My confession shaky as I desperately try to keep my teeth from chattering.
Martha laughs softly, rubbing her hands vigorously up my arms. “He’d also probably prefer that you not freeze to death.”
“It’s not even that cold,” I argue, because it’s really not all that cold.
“Even Canucks get cold.” She pulls me along behind her to the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when my feet land on the warm interior floor.
When I walk into the living room, Sam stands from where he’s been sitting on a couch across from Thomas, a mug of tea sitting on the table in front of him.
He looks unsure about what he should do.
It’s still so odd to see him not looking confident about something.
So I choose to be confident for us both.
I go to him and wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest and breathing him in. His arms encircle me slowly, and I hear Thomas say he’s going to get another biscuit, and then it’s just the sound of us breathing and the soft crackle of the fire.
Eventually I pull myself back and tip my head up to look at him. “You’ve got a very nice voice, Sam Keefer,” I whisper.
“I sang in a choir when I was a kid,” he says, brushing my hair behind my ear. “Never thought it would come in handy one day.” He beams down at me, his confidence seeping back into his demeanour.
“What was the song?”
“I actually don’t know the name of it. Something boat…” He sucks his lips in while he thinks and then shrugs. “I don’t even remember where I heard it, just popped into my head. Thank goodness too. Otherwise, she was getting some classic rock the lads play in the locker room.”
A cackle bursts out of me, imagining him singing Queen or something. “She would have loved it just as much. She really likes the attention.”
“Maybe I’ll test that theory on another night,” he murmurs against my forehead, chasing the last of the chills from my body.
“Oh my goodness!” Maggi’s squeal bounces off the wall of our still mostly unfurnished home, the sound of her jumping up and down enthusiastically making Sam chuckle as he screws together the coffee table.
I hold my breath, waiting for her to see the first hidden creature, and when she does, she releases another squeal of delight. It’s odd how a sound like that from someone else’s kid sets my teeth on edge, but when Maggi does it, all I can do is smile.
Maggi woke me up at the crack of dawn, dressed with Nessie cradled under her arm and very ready to see her new house.
We arrived to find Sam already hard at work finishing up some furniture that we’d started last night before getting distracted.
He’d slept over while I, very reluctantly, went back to Thomas and Martha’s.
I don’t know how we are going to transition to him being here all the time, or when, for that matter.
Another thing that doesn’t seem to exist in any handbook.
And certainly not something one should look online for the answer to.
Right now he eats dinner with us when he’s home, and we spend time alone during the day when Maggi is at school.
Sometimes that time is spent in my bedroom here, but most of the time we are out shopping for stuff for the house and then coming back to put things together.
Sam has been a godsend in the building furniture category.
It’s not that I can’t do it, it’s that I can’t stand doing it.
He’s meticulous and organized, whereas I’m chaos and a bit more fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants.
He kicked me out of Maggi’s room more than once because I got frustrated.
Taking my face in his hands, he’d say something lovely, followed by begging me to walk away.
I’ve organized the big bookshelf several times because we always seem to find ourselves in a bookstore when we’re out and about.
And every time Sam sees a copy of anything by Jane Austen or a different edition of Animal Farm, he buys it.
For a guy who didn’t want to be involved with his family bookstore, he sure likes to go into them.
I asked him about that while we were walking out of the fifth one we’d come across, and he shrugged and said that it was different when he wasn’t tied to it.
An enjoyable experience rather than one of obligation.
Apparently he discussed that with his new therapist because it had been eating away at him.
The fact he has a therapist and openly talks about it is sexy as hell, and that’s all him. Sam taking his mental health seriously and including me in his journey isn’t tied to my past. It’s a totally new experience.
“I found Ghillie Dhu1,” Maggi shouts, running up to me excitedly.
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmmhmm, he’s hiding behind a tree on the wall, like this.” She crouches down behind the single armchair in the room and peeks around it.
Sam’s knees crack as he stands and walks over to us. “Did you find anything else?” he asks, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. It feels so good not to hide our affection anymore. Maggi doesn’t bat an eye as I snuggle back into him.
She squints up at us and then turns and runs back to her room. I guess the answer is no—she hadn’t found anyone else.
Sam spent hours using stencils and various techniques he’d seen online to paint a mural with many of Maggi’s favourite folk hidden throughout.
I wasn’t sure how fast she’d be able to find them, as I still hadn’t found most of them—then again, I’m not nearly as well-versed on Scottish faeries as my five-year-old is.
1 Solitary male faerie, with dark hair and clothed in leaves and moss. A forest protector known for being kind to children, but aggressive to adults who bring harm to the forest.