By forestport12
Sam Townes infant son passed away in his arms while standing near his wife’s bedside. As he told his child goodbye, he could feel his hope of having a child slipping away from beneath him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sarah that he was done trying to have a child in the natural way. He leaned over and kissed her sweaty brow where it seemed all anguish of loss surfaced. He hoped to pull her back from the brink of a mental collapse with carefully constructed words. “Don’t blame yourself. You are enough for me. You are all I need.”
A nurse stepped in to remove the dead infant, but not before Sam laid the lifeless child in Sarah’s arms. She kissed the child long enough for her tears to stain his cheeks. She’d been through this moment before, another loss, a perilous moment when she extended her arms to the nurse and let the loss fall like a sledgehammer to her heart.
Sarah’s contorted face turned to anger. She grabbed Sam’s arms as he held the railing between them for balance. She pinched Sam until he winced in pain. “Why? What happened to all those prayers? All those promises. Why does God punish us?”
Sam wanted to shrink and dribble away. He was the one who quoted the scripture at home. He was the one who kept a prayer vigil at church. He knew in her fragile state, he couldn’t tell her God must have another path when she dug her fingernails into arms.
When the transfer of pain became too much for Sam, he pried away from her grip and stumbled backward. A guttural cry came from Sarah. It sounded like a cat caught in a claw-trap, a feral sound of abandoned hope.
Another nurse rushed inside with a needle in her hand. After the nurse put his wife to sleep, Sam slinked away and thought about exiting the building, hoping to avoid her mother. As he limped down the luminous hall, it was obvious that he had one deformed leg, thin and shorter than the other. He had polio, as a kid. He wasn’t supposed to live, but he proved the doctors wrong. He was his parent’s miracle child, because he lived, despite the constant pain when he walked.
As Sam stumbled around the corner to the waiting room, his mother-in-law was there to greet him. The disappointment in her eyes and constipated look spoke more than words. She stood close enough for him to breathe in her minted breath. “You’re done putting my daughter’s life in danger. You should have sterilized.”
Sam didn’t have any words for her. He limped through the revolving doors, exiting the building where he was free to hide in the darkness, if he could just escape the lights in the parking lot.
| Author Notes | I decided I had to do this. Although this is a work of fiction, it was inspired by true story and friend. I'm dedicating this book to him. His character is my inspiration, though fallible, yet not without empathy. To this day, if you happen to be on a certain road by near Lynchburg Virginia, there is a cross in his name. |
By forestport12
Sam slipped away from the hospital into the night of an early November blizzard. The wind sliced through his coat, and the icy snow stung his face. He flipped his collar and tucked his head, as if crashing through ghostly waves in the parking lot.
If only he could dash to his car. He forced his weak leg forward through drifts of snow. The pain radiated to his hip, but he pushed on to his car. His poor gate reminded him of his childhood. He was the first target in dodge ball and the last to be picked; The first to be found in a game of hide n seek after closed eyes counted to ten.
He ducked into his Subaru Impreza and fished his pocket for the keys. He blew on his hands, then cranked the engine to a roar. With a fogged windshield, he rocked the car until the tires stopped spinning in place. Straining his wet eyes and swiping the windshield, he followed fresh tire tracks in the snow to the road. Sam wanted to be home alone under the cover of darkness where no one could shine a light on him, where he could pretend to be invisible.
Sam put the Syracuse city lights in his rearview mirror. The fog on his windshield melted from the heater. Windswept snow across the country road forced a vice-grip on the wheel. The early storm of winter caught folks off guard.
A deer jumped from the snowy bank and darted past him. He jammed the brakes and slid sideways but still on the road. While his heart thumped hard, he looked in the rearview and watched a fawn following the doe into the woods on the other side.
"Why not," Sam said to himself. "Why not kill a mother doe. "Then I guess I could raise the fawn at home."
Sam spun his tires getting into the driveway with a motion light above the garage exposing a snowdrift on his path to the front door. Diving from the car, his weak leg nearly caved. He clung to the door, as the wind howled.
Scrambling forward, he unlocked the oak door. Sam knew he was about to cross a cold threshold. He shook the snow off his shoulders. He flipped on the light in the hall. He shook with a tremor inside searching for a way out. He had yet to fire up the furnace. He shuffled over to the fireplace in the living room, leaving puddles on the hardwood floor.
Sam's phone vibrated from his coat pocket. It was Lisa, on the night staff at the city rescue mission. He was the weekend director. They called him on the big decisions.
The text read: "Sam, we've had to turn people away from the mission back out into the storm. There're not enough beds, and you know the fire code restricts our numbers. Thought best to let you know, in case you have any ideas."
He plopped down on the couch. A picture in his mind formed. He could see homeless ones gathered around a burning barrel, taking turns warming their hands. Then Taylor stabbed his thoughts. She'd been a regular up until a month or so. She was pregnant, six months or more.
They'd lost track of Taylor. She had come close to having a haven like Vera House. Then her boyfriend shows with enough drug money for a weekly rental at a cheap motel. Sam pictured her in the alley, wet dirty blonde, fighting to stay warm, curled into a bloated ball of desperation.
Sam thumbed his cellphone with a message. "Have you seen Taylor, the abused pregnant girl?"
"Will do the rounds and find out."
Using his phone as a flashlight, Sam peeled back his coat and kicked off his wet shoes. He unfurled his soaked socks too. He stumbled over to where he had a kindling in the fireplace ready with split wood. He lit a match and then sat down, almost falling back on the couch. He rubbed his legs. Pain radiated from his hip. He dug into his pants pocket where he found a couple loose baby aspirins. He chewed away. Eyes closing in the firelight, his tensed body relaxed.
The phone rang! His heart skipped. It was the hospital!
"Hell...o"
"Sam, it's Sarah."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm...I'm okay. Just tired. My mother's spending the night with me in the hospital. Doctor told me...he told me I had to stop trying to have a baby."
"I know. Sorry. I shouldn't have..."
Sam, after I'm released tomorrow," She spoke in a weak, mousy voice. "I'm going home with mother. I need time away."
Sam sprang to the edge of the sofa. "What do you mean, time?"
"I just need space. I...I love you. But I need time away."
Sam protested. "But I can take care of you."
"So tired. I...I need to go now."
Sam plopped back. Closed his eyes. He listened to the crackle of the fire. Then the howling wind. His mind caved into sleep; the only place left to hide.
| Author Notes | As time goes on, we learn that Sam and Sarah have a special room for a baby already set aside as if frozen in time. We also learn that Sam is a night janitor at a middle school and only gets a small stipend from his weekend director job, he considers a ministry. |
By forestport12
Sam slipped into a cavernous sleep on the couch. The fireplace glowed with embers. A chill raked his bones, forcing him to curl into a ball. He shuddered asleep with his cell phone on the stand near his head.
A dream took him into the woods near his home in the country. Having abandoned his car in a ditch of snow, he limped his way back toward the house through the woods on a shortcut. But his boots sank in the snow and every step was painful. He was lost in a maze of trees, attempting to find a sign of light in a neighborhood. In the distance he heard the cry of a baby. He followed the sound until deeper into a forest, deeper into an ink of darkness. Then he realized it must have been the sound of a bobcat caught in a claw trap.
Sam's phone buzzed above his head. He snatched it from the end table. From the haze in his head, he read the message from Lisa on the night staff at the shelter. "Taylor isn't here, but I've heard from someone who saw her when dinner was served. They think she might be outside where a group have huddled together behind the building."
Sam leaned forward and looked at the time on his phone. It was 1:37 in the morning. He was relieved to have his dream interrupted. He fumbled with his boots, having left puddles on the hardwood. He stretched until it hurt, his weak leg throbbing some. On the edge of the sofa, he tugged on his boots. He dug into his coat pocket, found his car keys. As much as he wanted to wrap himself in a blanket and shut the world out, he couldn't forget about the one person who needed saving; or could it be the other way around?
Outside, the snow and wind subsided. But the cold found its way into his skin despite the fur lining of his coat. Above there were a million or so stars in the clearing skies. Below and across his yard, the crusted snow sparkled like tiny diamonds.
Stumbling to his car, he fell inside and turned the engine over. He feared a pregnant Taylor was out near the mission building, fighting to stay warm. Why was he obsessing over her? What would his wife think of him after all she'd been through? Maybe he should have prayed before he pressed the accelerator.
The moonlight bounced off the virgin snow on either side of the road as he took the narrow turns in his Subaru. From a farm hill road, he could see the silvery city lights of Syracuse. He tapped his brakes, slipping and sliding down the hill and into the plowed streets below.
He drove past the Syracuse University dome and then the hospital where his wife slept on the 3rd floor of the maternity ward. It was supposed to be a place celebrating life, the birth of his boy. Instead, he found his way down the lighted city streets to the shelter in search of a pregnant teenager. The hospital stayed in his rearview mirror until the last turn toward the mission.
Sam knew some of Taylor's background. Her single mom was raising her in a city house so many blocks away. Then the mom brought home a boyfriend who eventually abused Taylor. She decided to strike out on her own at seventeen. She found an older boyfriend to take her into his apartment where he introduced her to heroin. By the time she'd turned eighteen, he had sent her to the strip club for money. When she ended up pregnant, she could no longer help support them. She lived in a tailspin. Every time she turned to the mission for help, she'd disappear again.
As Sam approached the Rescue Mission, he could see a group of homeless people gathered around a barrel of fire, taking turns warming their hands in a vacant lot. He pulled alongside the curb in front of a car covered in snow.
He tripped along the snowy sidewalk, dragging his weaker leg along with him, until he dug for his keys and fumbled with the lock to the shelter. Beyond the beds, he could see Lisa in the lighted and locked office.
Sam stepped into the darkness with rows of people on bunks between him and the office. It was set up like a barracks, military style where he negotiated the center aisle toward Lisa. He used his phone for a flashlight to be sure he didn't trip into someone.
Sam tapped on the big security window. It surprised her. She turned from her desk and opened the door. "Sam, I didn't know you would come out. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to feel you needed to be here."
"I'm here if you need me. I just want to be sure Taylor's not out in this weather. It would be too risky to be out in this and be pregnant."
Sam, what about Ruth? Did she have the baby?"
Why did Sam think for a moment it wouldn't be on everyone's mind. He must have looked glum. "She miscarried." He didn't give her all the details, like how he held his infant son in his arms while he was still warm.
"I'm so sorry Sam. Did this just happen?" Please sit for a moment. Rest yourself. I have some paperwork you can sign."
"She's spending one night the hospital, just for observation." He wouldn't tell Lisa about his wife moving in with his mother in-law.
"Sorry, I didn't know. I wouldn't have called you earlier this evening and bothered you about the overcrowding.
Sam waved her off. "Let me sign those papers and then I'm going to have a quick look around the building for Taylor. If I find her, I will put her in a motel room myself."
"Okay." She handed him some papers on a clipboard.
Sam signed them quickly. Handed the clipboard over and stood. They hugged. "Okay, Lisa. You did the right thing. We can't take the risk of losing our permit with the city."
She nodded. Sam opened the door. Lisa locked herself in and watched Sam drag his way down the darkened center aisle.
A rush of cold air met Sam outside. He turned his collar, tucked his head and made his way around the corner where some were hunkered down along the painted brick wall.
Sam spotted what looked like someone with a pale face and dirty blonde hair, head between her knees. He limped over to her. He leaned over and poked her shoulder. It startled Sam that it was a young man with stringy blonde hair!
"Sorry," he said, as he moved down the row of people curled over on the sidewalk.
He was about to give up when around the next corner he spotted someone leaning against the wall. Her chin was tucked into her puffy coat. She lifted her head and held out her hand toward someone next to her. She took a sip from what looked like a flask.
The pain in Sam's hip radiated. The crisp cold weather only made the deformity of his weak and shorter leg hurt more. He shuffled toward her. The men who stood around the fire yards away glared. "Taylor, is that you?"
She looked at him with her pearly blues. Her knees were drawn in until the oversized coat covered her like a blanket. "Who wants to know?"
As Sam leaned in closer to be sure it was her. It prompted the guy next to her to take his flask and retreat into the shadows "Do you remember me?"
"Look, I'm not doing tricks, so get lost creep!"
It was a shock to Sam. He hadn't thought of how she could get picked up by someone wanting to pay her for a sexual favor. "No, no. I'm the assistant director of the shelter, here to check on you. See if you need a place..." He showed the badge around his neck.
"What did you have in mind?" She sank further into her coat.
"You all right Tay?" A voice came from a black man who held up a broke two by four meant for the fire.
Sam turned and put his hands up, as if to surrender. "It's not what you think. I'm a director here at the shelter. I'm trying to help."
"That right Tay?"
Taylor slid up the wall. "It's okay, he's one of the good guys, fellas."
The anger in the man's eyes cooled, and the others stopped staring.
Sam breathed a sigh. His forehead sweated in the cold "Let me get you to a hotel somewhere. I can put it on my card I use for emergencies."
Taylor shifted toward him. "You look harmless enough."
He led her with his limp down the block toward the car. "You should be careful with the baby."
Taylor stopped for a moment. "How is it you seem to know more about me than I do you? You been casing me?"
Under the streetlamp, Sam looked at her bone white complexion, sunken chin, bloodshot blue eyes. "I was told you might be outside by a staff member. You're known by us, because you are a priority. It's my job."
"Then why I am I not staying at the shelter?"
"Its full to capacity."
Taylor opened the car before Sam could reach the passenger door. She dipped inside and slid the seat back to give her and the baby in her tummy enough room.
Starting the car, Sam insisted. "I need you to put the seatbelt on. Please."
Taylor fought with it until Sam heard it click.
After several city streets, he passed by the hospital where Sam's wife slept. He turned down a service road next to the highway where a cluster of motels could be found.
"I'm hungry," she blurted out."
Sam could see she was becoming fidgety, wringing her hands. He guessed she was coming off a high from heroin or something.
"Can we eat something first?"
She may have expected Sam to pull into an all-night Diner in Syracuse. Instead, he took the road that would wind its way up the hill and into the country where he lived.
"Wait, the motels are over there?" Taylor looked like she was ready to kick the windshield out with her feet.
"Don't worry, Taylor. It's almost three in the morning. I want to take you to my house. We have plenty of room. Your own private bedroom and bath. All the food you can eat. You can look things over, and if you don't like it, I will take you to a motel. Deal?"
She seemed nervous or agitated as the city lights faded in the distance. "Sure, you're not just saying that?"
"No, no. How could you think of such a thing? My reputation is everything." Sam tightened his grip on the wheel. Blood rushed to his face. "Spend the night, and then I know a good doctor from my church I can take you to in the morning. When's the last time you had an exam for you and the baby?"
Silence fell between them. Taylor folded her arms and stared out the window at the dark woodlands and glistening snow.
"Sounds like you got this all figured out for me. You got my life planned out or something?"
"No nothing like that. Try to be open to people who care about you. I know you shouldn't trust everyone."
"If my boyfriend were here, I'd be okay. He's in New York city on business. When he gets back, I will do just fine."
Sam held his tongue. He wanted to tell her what he thought of her drug dealing boyfriend, but he didn't want to risk her freaking over it. He was having enough trouble with the nagging voice in his head telling him he just crossed an ethical line between the hospital and home.
| Author Notes |
Sam the protagonist is married to Ruth, who works part-time on weekends as assistant director at a city shelter.
Ruth is married to Sam. She lost another baby and is ready to move on, but doesn't plan to come home anytime soon. Taylor is a pregnant addict who sometimes lives on the street. |
By forestport12
Sam tightened his grip on the wheel through the dark and snowy roads to his house. Taylor sat across from him and looked over the rolling hills blanketed by snow. She seemed to be in a trance. He couldn't tell if she was lost in the view or somewhere deep in her own head. For now, he was just glad she hadn't seemed sketchy enough to jump from his moving car.
Riding in silence made Sam nervous. "Have you been a city girl your whole life?"
Taylor looked his way, while Sam gripped the wheel on the last icy bend toward home. "I took a few field trips when I was in school. Been to a pumpkin farm once. Must be fresh air out here."
"Airs not always fresh when manure gets spread to make crops grow. Wind blows just right; we duck for cover inside."
He caught a smile but couldn't get over how it betrayed her gaunt and sunken face, no doubt ravaged by drugs.
"Who's we?" she quizzed. "You haven't told me about your family. I just assumed you had a wife and kids. Don't tell me you're all alone. You're not related to Ted Bundy, are you?"
Sam's chest tightened. "I do. I mean I have a wife, no kids. She's...she's not going to be there. She's spending the night in the hospital." He worried about admitting she just had a miscarriage. How would she take it?
"Does she know I'm spending the night?"
"Too late to call her. Didn't exactly plan this out."
Taylor folded her arms. "What's wrong with her?"
Sam turned into the driveway, slicing through the snow. He turned off the car and cleared his throat. "She's going through a rough patch. She's spending the night in the hospital as a precaution."
"I get it. Some kind of breakdown. Sorry."
Sam sighed. "She had a miscarriage."
"You've been trying to have a baby? For how long? What else haven't you told me?"
It was getting cold in the car. Taylor hugged her shoulders. They're breathing fogged the windshield.
Anger surfaced in Sam's words. "It's been a long day. I held my dead infant son in my arms while my wife could not be consoled. I wanted to crawl into bed alone and pretend it was all a bad dream. I still want the world to go away. Then, I get an urgent text from the shelter. The surprising fury of the storm meant they had to turn people away."
Taylor looked riddled with guilt. "I'm sorry. I need help. I..."
Sam rubbed his hands together. "You're hungry. We're both tired. I know it sounds awkward, but I believe some things are not an accident, the timing and all. Let's go inside. There's a spare room. You are safe now, and tomorrow I will take you to the clinic."
Taylor pushed her way outside into the cold and snow, stumbling near the walkway. Sam slipped from the car and fell on ice hidden beneath the snow. Pain radiated from his twisted hip down his weak and trembling leg.
"What the heck!" Taylor cried. She fought her way around the front of the car. "Mr. Townes, you okay?"
"I'm okay." She helped him stand. He brushed the snow off and limped forward toward the front door.
Taylor watched him try to pull his uncooperative leg in front to get leverage. As he fumbled for the house keys in his coat pocket. "Seriously what's wrong? Was it an accident?"
"No. I had polio as a kid."
"Wait, I thought it was cured during the dark ages or something."
"It's unusual but happens."
"Let me help you. I may be pregnant, but my legs work."
Sam gave her the house key. She turned the key and the oak door creaked open. As she stepped inside, he leaned over and flicked on the hall light.
The light revealed a set of stairs in front. To the left was the kitchen. Taylor threw down her coat and kicked off her boots.
Taylor turned to Sam. "Seriously, you and the wife bought a two-story house in the country. You need one of those stair lifts."
"I get around. Kitchens on the left."
Taylor hurried into the kitchen. Before he could get there, he heard her rummaging in the fridge and opening cabinets.
Sam took his coat and hung it in the coat closet along with Taylor's. He sat on his bench and pulled off his rubber boots. By the time he was able to make it to the kitchen, she'd already had half a ham sandwich in her mouth.
He stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching her. "I see you found the cold cuts."
Taylor took a large bite. Then she tried to talk with a mouth full. "No dawg or cat neither?"
Sam shook his head. Taylor opened the fridge and drank milk from the glass bottle. It trickled down her mouth and over her chin. When she turned around, he couldn't help but stare at the tracks on the inside of her arms. It was a sure sign of heroin use.
Sam stood on the other side of the kitchen Island. "I need you to be honest with me. When's the last time you used drugs?"
Taylor swallowed and wiped mayo from her mouth. "How bout you go first with being honest? Why have you brought me here?"
"I'm trying to save you."
"Oh really? You're a savior? That's a jump from an assistant director. You sure you don't want my baby? Heck of a coincidence, losing a baby and finding me in one long day."
"You need to trust me. I could lose my position over this. You need to think about the baby."
Taylor grabbed the butcher knife from the block behind her on the counter. She flashed it in front of him. "I just bet you're thinking about my baby."
"What are you doing?" Sam reached for the knife. She backed away. "Put that down!"
Taylor pretended she would start an incision to her stomach. "How does it work? You lure me inside, then strap me down and cut the baby out?"
"Give me the knife!" Sam lunged for it, grabbing the knife and cutting his fingers.
Taylor's look changed. "I'm sorry." The knife clattered on the butcher block Island. She grabbed a hand towel from the stove door. "Keep pressure on it."
Tears formed in Sam's eyes. "I'm okay. He pulled away.
"Are you crying? I'm sorry."
"I care about you and the baby! Why is it so hard to trust me?"
"I know you don't think I care about the baby. I really do. I don't want to hurt my baby. I'm not a terrible person."
"I'm going to get you help. First thing, we both need rest, and I need to take you to the clinic where my friend, Dr. Reed works. He might be able to get you into a rehab hospital where you can be safe and warm."
She shuddered through the tears and spoke in a halting way. "I've tried. God knows. I've tried to be clean."
"Finish eating, and then I will show you to your room."
Sam climbed the stairs ahead of her. She came out from the kitchen and looked up at him.
Sam waved her on. "Let me show you to your room."
She took the stairs, clutching her stomach.
"Is it the baby?" He asked.
She looked as if she might lose what she ate.
Sam showed her the bathroom between her room and the master bedroom. He limped down the hall and pushed the door open to her room for the night. The moon was bright as a night light without a curtain on the window to the backyard.
Taylor's stiffened at the door. Folded her arms as if to keep her food down. She turned to him with a look of astonishment. "This is your baby room. You want me to sleep here?"
"Yes. This is a single bed against the window. We had that ready in case...well in case my wife wanted to be near our baby, if he was having a bad night."
Taylor looked the small room over, painted in blue with a toy chest and stuffed animals. There was even a carousel of the planets over the crib. She reached over pushed the button and watched the planets circle the sun, including earth.
Classical music played from the carousel. Tears pressed against Sam's eyes. The room was hard for him to look at after the latest and last miscarriage his wife endured.
Taylor looked at Sam in the half dark. "You sure about this?"
"The other spare room has been used for storage."
Taylor clutched her stomach. The bulbous shape of her stomach defied a bone thin appearance. This time when she put her hands on her stomach, she smiled. She glowed. "Come here Sam. The baby is moving."
Sam stood frozen in the doorway.
Taylor moved toward him. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "Feel that?"
Nervous sweat formed on his forehead. His heart raced. "I...ah yes. I can." Maybe the baby room would move her to take better care of the child, Sam hoped. She kept his hand on her stomach for a long moment.
Taylor let go of Sam's hand and hugged his neck. She whispered in his ear. "You must be an angel from heaven."
Sam backed down the hall toward his room.
Opening the door and using the moonlight, he focused on the portrait of his wife on the wall above the bed. His shoulders dipped. He shifted over to the bed, barely able to hold himself from falling. He plopped onto the bed, clothes and all. He moaned in pain from his bad leg. The room spun. He strained his neck and looked at the sliver of light in the hall. He'd forgotten to lock the door. But he was unable to fight to get up. His body went limp. He caved into sleep, as if falling into a dark well.
By forestport12
Sam woke to the sound of water running through the pipes next to his room. At first, he thought he was drowning in his dream, stuck in a well filling with rainwater. He breathed a sigh, knowing the dream wasn't real.
He strained his neck to see a sliver of light from the hallway. He'd forgotten to close and lock the door. He tried to pull himself up but was too weak from the long day. He caved back into his bed and plunged into a deep sleep.
Morning light bore into Sam's eyes until it gave him a headache, and he woke. His bad leg was still asleep. He stretched until the back of his hand touched someone beside him. He jolted from bed falling backward on the hardwood!
Sam scrambled to his feet. "What are you doing in here?"
Taylor stirred. She rubbed her eyes and refused to look his way. She hugged her pillow.
He climbed over the bed and shook her shoulders. "Hey, wake up! You're not supposed to be in here."
"You're hurting me! Stop."
"Get up!"
Taylor sat up on the edge of the bed. His wife's pajamas were large enough to slip over her pregnant stomach. "I did nothing wrong. You were sound asleep. I was afraid. The baby room creeped me out. There's graveyard in your backyard for cripe sake."
Heat rushed to Sam's face. "It came with the old house. Why am I explaining this to you? You don't understand, do you? I could be in all kinds of trouble just having you in the house, not to mention my wife."
Taylor stood, cradling the pillow in her arms. "I'll just show myself out then."
"You can't just walk miles down these roads. You won't even make it to the city."
"Yea, and it's you that took me way out here in the middle of nowhere, genius."
Sam put his hands up. "That's not what I want. I'm going to take you to Doctor Reed at the clinic. And you could have slept on the couch if you didn't like the view."
"It's Saturday," she said. "My boyfriend can take me when he gets back from New York. I called his cell last night. He's coming back soon."
"Please listen to me. This can't wait another week. Let me help you. And yes, they are open. He runs the clinic as a nonprofit. They even have a baby doctor that he can set you up with. You're endangering your life and the life of this baby."
Taylor threw the pillow down. "I'll go, but this better not be a trick to lock me away. My boyfriend will know where to find me. I'm hungry, and so is my baby."
"Ok then. Go change, and I will see you downstairs in the kitchen."
The phone on the nightstand rang as Taylor retreated toward the door. She stopped and turned, as if she needed to be curious.
Sam looked at the caller ID. It was the hospital! Sam's heart hammered inside. He looked back at Taylor and waved her on. She left the room in a huff.
Sam picked up the receiver. His thoughts in a blender. "Hello, Sarah, is that you?"
"Yes, Sam. I'm checking out of the hospital very soon. Are you okay? You sound as if you didn't get much sleep."
Sam took a deep breath. "I had a late night. I had to go to the shelter. We had an overflow situation because of the storm. There were some at risk people that needed help." He wasn't about to tell her everything that happened. He told himself his intentions were good.
"I know this isn't easy for you, Sam."
"Just come home?"
"Mother has me. I'm checking out of the hospital now. She's going to drive me over to the house to pick up some clothes."
"Your mother can stay here. We have the extra room." Once Sam said it, he wished the words could go back in his mouth. Mentioning the vacant baby room was bad timing.
A heavy silence followed.
"I don't think that's such a good idea." Said Ruth. "Doctor said, "'no more trying to have a baby."'
"I agree totally. One hundred percent." Sam watched Taylor turn the corner for the stairs, looking like her stomach could rupture from the baby inside her frail body.
"Are you going to be home?" Ruth asked.
"I...I'm meeting Dr. Reed at the clinic. It's related to someone from the shelter who needs to be seen. It's...it's a case were working on."
"I understand. You know I love you, Sam, don't you? You're the only man for me. Not having a child this way won't change how I feel. Don't beat yourself up over this. Don't put this all on you."
"You either. I will call you later. I love you beyond words."
Sam hung up the phone and listened to Taylor make her way down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Taylor shouted from the kitchen. "I'm going to scramble some eggs with bacon! Is that okay?"
As Sam ambled to the bathroom, he answered. "Yes!" He was just glad she hadn't shouted while he was on the phone with his wife. He welcomed her appetite. He knew enough about drug addiction that food can help replace the urge to get high. He just wished she hadn't called her drug dealing boyfriend.
After Sam peeled off his clothes, he could only look in the mirror and wondered who it was that stared back at him. Looking down at his deformed leg, he quickly realized his twisted body was the same. He turned on the shower, and wished he could go back to bed, maybe back in time too. "So much for going the extra mile," he said to himself under the noise of the shower. He just wanted to get Taylor out of his house and get her where she belongs.
After the shower and change of clothes, he carefully grabbed the railing of the stairs and limped his way toward the kitchen. A strong aroma of coffee lifted his nose. He breathed it in. He stood in the doorway. His stomach growled. Taylor looked content when she should be afraid of what happens next. A sonogram could reveal a baby inside her as deformed, ravaged by drugs.
Sam made his way to the coffee and poured it into his favorite mug, the one that said, "Liberty University," where he graduated, where his father was dean of the college. School on the mountain and in Virginia held some of his best memories. It was where he met Ruth, a Godly woman with blue eyes and amber hair. She could have gone out with tall men, the ones with thick, wavy hair, and that Elvis smile.
Sam couldn't believe it when Ruth accepted the first date, seemingly unphased by his handicap. College had been the first place where everyone treated him like a human, an equal.
Bacon sizzled in the frying pan and caught Sam's nose. Taylor appeared to be a good cook, but she wasn't much for putting things away and cleaning up after herself. She waited on Sam, which was a better vibe than last night when he wrestled the butcher knife from her hands.
Taylor sat on a stool across from Sam. He wanted to put her mind at ease. "You know I'm pretty sure the doctor can get you in the hospital for a few days. If you just do what's needed. Then someone at the shelter can work on paperwork to get you into a home somewhere."
Taylor swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Okay. Where are you in all this?"
"I've got to get my wife home, maybe take some time off. It doesn't look good, if I'm with you every step of the way."
Taylor shrugged her shoulders and chomped on a piece of toast. Sam bowed his head and prayed over breakfast. Then it dawned on him how he rushed through his actions last night without any prayer. Maybe he feared an answer.
He devoured his plate of eggs and bacon. He hadn't wanted to eat since last night. He wouldn't tell Taylor how relieved he was to be putting her somewhere else, especially before his wife and mother-in-law stopped by for clothes.
| Author Notes |
Sam was a very real teacher and friend of mine. I loved him beyond words. We used to play golf after classes. He'd carry his clubs with a one thin weak leg creating his limp. He was small in stature, but big in his heart. Although I dedicate this story to him, it is a work of fiction, but his presence and the heart of who he was is true to the story. His first marriage was childless. She left him. His 2nd marriage he had two beautiful children. He worked at Liberty University under his father the dean.
GENRE: Family/Suspens/Thriller |
By forestport12
The sun reflecting from the snow blinded Sam while driving through the farm country. Taylor stuck her head out the window and threw up. He couldn't afford another distraction on his way to the city clinic. He could hardly keep his eyes open enough without them watering. He didn't have to ask her if it was morning sickness when the scrambled eggs caught the side of his car. He pulled over where she opened the door and finished unloading breakfast.
Sam was relieved to make it down the winding hill and into the sooty city streets where his eyes could focus. His phone buzzed after pulling into the parking space at the clinic. A text from Doctor Reed spelled out for him to go to the front desk and let the receptionist know of the pair's arrival. The ten-story hospital loomed in the background where his wife was discharged. There was a stab to his heart that he should have been driving his wife home when he left the car. Instead, she was going to stay with her mother, indefinitely.
Taylor walked inside ahead of Sam, but she didn't look thrilled with the idea. She zipped her ratty coat up, as if she could hide her baby bump and the heroin marks on her arms. When Sam walked in, he looked over at Taylor but said nothing.
He limped over to the counter while she stood back, arms folded. A rainbow of people in all kinds of colored coats and skin tones sat in plastic chairs. Some looked like they were taking naps, others stared at the walls. They all looked like they'd been there since yesterday. There was one young brunette in jeans and a sweater in a corner with her child playing over some building blocks.
The receptionist with long nails, frizzy hair, smiled wide. "Hello. Are you Sam?"
"Yes," Sam responded. "And this is Taylor..." She walked forward. It was then he'd forgotten her last name and just left it out.
"Hi Taylor," The receptionist said. "Dr. Reed said to just knock on his door." She stood and pointed to a door on her right between the counter and all the tired folks in the waiting area.
Sam caught a glimpse of her name tag. "Thanks Abby."
Taylor followed Sam's lead until she bumped into him at the doctor's door. He looked over and detected scowls on faces who had been waiting patiently. Sam was about to knock on the door when Doctor Reed stuck his head out. He was black man in a white robe, early forties with close cropped hair and silver-grey beard.
"Sam. It's good to see you. And this is Taylor, I presume?" He ushered them into his office. "Sam has told me so much about you."
Taylor snorted a laugh, "Yea, I bet."
"You look tired, Sam." Dr. Reed studied Sam's bloodshot eyes. "How's Sarah and the baby?"
Sam looked away. "Another miscarriage. We thought..." Sam choked on his words. Tears stung his eyes. "We thought this one was going to make it. We had...had hope."
"I'm so sorry. She, I mean Sarah, is she okay?"
"She's leaving the hospital to spend time with her mother."
Sam glanced over at Taylor, folding her arms and pretending not to listen.
Dr. Reed hugged Sam. "Will you be in church tomorrow?"
"I don't want to be anywhere right now." Sam turned to leave. "Are you done with me for now. Taylor needs our help."
Dr. Reed nodded. "I will call you."
Sam turned back. "I'm sorry I snapped. I just need some rest. Do you think you can get her admitted to the hospital?"
"Yes, totally. I'm going to make some calls."
Taylor chimed. "Yea, I need a place to crash. But my boyfriend will get us a place when he gets back from New York city."
Dr. Reed seemed surprised. "Is he the father?"
"The one and only."
Sam shook his head and couldn't close the door fast enough. He held hope her boyfriend would stay clear of Taylor. As he limped toward the exit, he glanced over at the faces who looked at him as if he must have cheated the system to get Taylor in first.
He was just glad he could finally put some distance between him and the real world. He would have crawled out the door to get away. He knew the clinic would do everything they could to free her from her drug habit and get her under strict care for the baby. He also knew she had a penchant for disappearing.
Just as Sam fumbled for his key near the car, his phone buzzed. This time it was a call from his wife's cellphone. He sank into his car, closed the door, and answered.
"Hey Honey. You doing okay?"
"Well, I'm in kitchen cleaning up after a huge mess. That's not like you Sam."
"Wait, no. You shouldn't be doing anything like that. You just got out of the hospital."
"My mother's been helping me. And what's with my stretch pants?" My mother was upstairs and found them on the floor in the baby room of all places. She getting some clothes for me as well."
Sam's chest tightened. "Well, I don't know, I wanted to help find things for you to wear. I must have dropped them when I rushed you to the hospital."
"It's just weird Sam. Honestly, I never liked those. You would have had to dig deep for them."
"Okay, yes." His stomach churned. It caught him off guard. He wasn't so sure he ever lied to her before. He tried to fix it. "Actually, I was going to give it to someone who was at the shelter, along with other things you don't use."
"I guess, but you should have told me so."
"Sarah, you don't have to do this. You don't have to go to your mom's. I can take care of you."
"Don't. Don't do this to me or yourself. I need time. We need time."
She'd hung up before Sam could tell her, he loved her. At some point, he'd forgotten to breathe. He took a deep breath and exhaled, then started the engine.
One thing he knew for sure was how quickly things could spiral out of control, even with the best of intentions.
.
By forestport12
Sam couldn't wait to lock down his house and fumble upstairs to sleep away his depression. He held hope that his friend, Doctor Reed, would forget to look him up for church next morning. There was a blistering pain in his deformed leg. He figured if depression didn't keep people away, then he always had a bum leg as a default.
At the top of the stairs in his country house, vertigo added to his woes. He grabbed the banister and caught himself before falling down the stairs. He knew his wife wouldn't miss him for days. He wondered what his wife ever saw in him in the first place. His DNA wasn't worthy of having a kid. He refused to pray, because he knew anger would rise against his Lord. His faith seemed weak, much like his bad leg.
Stumbling through the door of the bedroom in his empty house, he plunged into bed, as if it was comforting quicksand. Still clutching his cellphone, he put it in silence mode, then tossed it on the end table. He could barely breath with his face buried in the smashed pillow but managed a smirk when thinking about how his wife needed to be away from him after the last miscarriage, and now he wanted sink into bed and disappear from the world.
Somehow, Sam managed not to suffocate. He couldn't remember much about curling into an embryo and dreaming about when he was tucked inside his mother's tummy. In his dream, he heard her having a conversation, as if he was in her fluid, much like the sounds you hear when swimming under water. He was close to his mother, and who wouldn't be, in his condition. He wasn't supposed to survive. He was her miracle baby. His mother knew how to move mountains with prayer.
The unspoken irony was how Sam Townes, unable to have children, and yet, himself wasn't supposed to live.
The doorbell blasted through the house like the closing bell at Junior high school where he worked as a janitor. As he bolted upright, he clutched his chest and could hardly breathe.
His eyes fluttered awake. The only thing more urgent was the need to go to the bathroom. Light was coming in through his thin curtains. The sun was shining but darkness followed his thoughts.
Stumbling into the bathroom and nearly falling from vertigo he cursed when whoever it was wouldn't take his finger off the doorbell. It was loud enough for his distant neighbor to hear it. He refused to yell and give himself away.
After surviving the bathroom, he looked down from the stairs and saw the shadow disappear, he expected to hear the motor start soon. He wanted to crawl back in bed, but he decided to find something to eat and check the time. As he fought his way down the stairs with the kitchen to his right, he could see the clock on the wall. It was 10AM! He must have slept fourteen hours into Sunday morning.
Clinging to the railing, he made it to the bottom. He listened but hadn't heard the car motor. The house was deathly quiet. Then he heard footsteps crunching behind the house on the frozen ground. His heart pinged with fear. What if it was someone trying to determine if he was home? Then he breaks in, knowing he can have his way with the place.
Sam limped over and grabbed the poker in the fireplace. He didn't own a gun. He shuffled near the sliding glass door and got himself close enough to crack a skull. A shadow formed on his back deck. Somehow, this person shoved the slide open!
Sam brought the edge of poker down just missing his head. "Doctor Reed!" Sam screamed as the doctor managed to duck.
"Smokes, Sam! Is that anyway to treat a friend. I guess it's not every day a black man shimmies open your back glass door." He smiled wide enough for Sam to see a gold tooth near his molars.
Sam dropped the fireplace poker. It clattered at his feet. "I forgot you told me you'd stop by. You should have called first."
"I called, several times. No answer. It went straight to voicemail. But you really should get that door fixed."
That's when Sam remembered he'd put the phone on silent. After rushing into the bathroom, he forgot to check his phone. "My bad. Better come in before the cold gets us both."
"Wait a second. I brought both of us coffee from Dunkin." Doctor Reed reached outside on the railing. "Here, this one is marked for you."
Sam beckoned him in and then shut the slider. "So, you are trying to get me to go to church with a cup of coffee?"
"If you don't go, then I will call my wife and tell her I can't make it. I'm not leaving you right now."
"Don't do that to Michele. She doesn't want to sit in those cold hard pews alone. Why can't I just have a break from people? I've always been faithful. Ever since we moved here and joined, we haven't missed a Sunday. You of all people should understand what I'm going through."
Doctor Reed passed the coffee to Sam where they sat down in the family room. Sam saw his reflection for a moment in the glass of the fireplace. He tried to tame his disheveled hair with his fingers, then took a sip of his coffee. His friend sat in the other chair between the couch where his perfect posture was something to envy. Sam, on the other hand, caved into his chair.
"Sam, I need to know if you have any plans beyond helping Taylor getting medical care she and the baby will need."
Sam perked from his chair. "Call it a coincidence of timing, but maybe, just maybe she's a God sent to help me get over what's happened between my wife and her loss. What's so wrong with that? And that's all there is to tell."
Doctor Reed held the coffee to his lips and sipped, then set it down on the end table. "Nothing, if you agree with me that this is a vulnerable time right now. Your judgement might be skewed, especially if your separated from your wife."
Sam couldn't recall if Doctor Reed was told she moved in with her mother. He leaned over. "You know about her being gone?"
It's obvious Sam. Let me just say this both as a doctor and a friend. "The last thing you need right now as to get too involved with a drug addicted pregnant girl."
"I'm the weekend director at the shelter. It was my job to care."
Doctor Reed put up his hands. "Yes, and you likely saved her life. You did the right thing. But I'm taking it from here. Your wife needs time, and you need time without this girl clouding your life."
"I never asked her if I could take her baby. If that's what you mean."
"Forget I mentioned it then."
What his friend didn't know was how Sam couldn't stop wondering if just maybe there could be something more. Just maybe someone like him should save the unborn child. If not him, then who? "Is Taylor, okay? Is the baby, okay?"
"Some of the testing that's been done doesn't indicate any deformities. The biggest concern right now is avoiding a premature birth and the very real consequence that the child will be born addicted to meth."
"What about Taylor?"
"She's okay, Sam. She's high maintenance in the hospital, but she's getting the initial treatment. She doesn't know it yet, but we hope to turn her over to Hutchins when released from the hospital where she can finish treatments in a locked facility to keep her off the streets."
"I just hope she doesn't bolt before then." Sam fell back into his chair. He tried not to look like his mind was heavy on Taylor and her unborn child.
"By the way, the sonogram show's she's having a boy. Baring a premature birth, the child could be born around Christmas. I will keep you updated on her progress, but please don't dive too deep after what you've been through Sam, for your sake and Ruth. Take time out for yourselves."
"Okay then. Tell me this. Are you talking to me as a doctor or friend?"
Doc leaned over his chair. "Neither. I'm talking to you as a brother of a different color."
Sam folded his arms. "Well brother, you might want to call Michelle and let her know you're going to be late for church. I'm still not moving. I'm in healing mode."
| Author Notes |
I need to confess: "I'm a schizophrenic writer. I go back and forth between my western and modern family thriller because I'm split. I love both genres and can't focus on one project.
In this story, I choose to put into the fiction true life characters to help it's realism. In fact, Doctor Reed is not a made up person, but someone who runs a remarkable clinic in Syracuse. And as mentioned before, Sam's character is taken from a friend and teacher from my college days who experienced some of what I plot through. |
By forestport12
It was the closing bell at Watertown Middle School, and Sam didn't want to get caught in the stampede. Kids shot from classrooms and filled the shiny hallway before Sam could limp to his janitor closet on his bum leg. Some spectacled boy rammed into Sam causing him to fall into a wall.
A couple of the big kids laughed and looked over at Sam as he struggled to get to his feet. The bullies took the opportunity to push his housekeeping cart further away from his reach and into more traffic. Mercifully, the pair scurried away, not wanting to miss their bus ride. It was after all the last day of school before Thanksgiving.
After the traffic died down, Sam retrieved the cart and shoved it with him into the closet. Sam was in his sanctuary. The noises died down. He especially liked how quiet things got later in the evening when he could sing to himself and collect his thoughts while working.
Sam sat on a milk crate in the darkness, surrounded by shelves of chemicals and various mop handles and buckets. He used his phone for a flashlight where he found his Bible on a shelf and took a break. As sat there on a crate turning pages, he closed the book and decided to pray and ask God if he did the right thing over helping to get a pregnant Taylor off the street and into medical treatment.
He prayed above a whisper. "Lord, I know I messed up. I didn't want to pray, because it's true, I was afraid you'd say no. And then I thought, it's my job to be weekend director at the shelter; and how many times have I reached out to help those in need without stopping first to pray? Dear Lord, save that girl, save this baby. And, if you don't want me in the middle of it, then it's okay. But my wife and I have been faithful. I'm thinking this is all no accident."
Sam wiped a tear from his eye and sat alone in the dark. His cellphone lit the room as a call came in from a number he didn't recognize.
"Hello."
"Is this Mr. Townes?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"It's Taylor. You don't recognize my voice." She laughed.
"You sound different. I gave you my phone number?"
"I got it at the house. Anyhow, my boyfriend came back. He sprung me from the drug ward."
Silence. It was like a punch to his chest.
The closet doorknob rattled. Sam nearly dropped the phone.
"You still there?" Taylor prodded.
"What about the baby..."
"I knew it! It's about the baby. Don't be such a creep."
"I'm trying to save you and the baby."
"Oh, wow." She sounded drugged.
"Please, Taylor you don't want to hurt your baby, do you?"
There was someone in her background. Another voice chimed in on Taylor. "Hey you. This is Chris, her boyfriend. I'm taking care of her now. She was trying to be nice. But I don't like your tone."
"I'm sorry. Just let me talk to her."
"He wants to talk to you." Taylor's laugh could be heard.
"Taylor, I can help you. Where are you staying?"
"Oh, you are a softie. We are staying at the Hampton Inn, Syracuse. My boyfriends got money. He's taking care of me, oh, and the baby too."
"Taylor."
Click. She hung up. Sam heard a rustling outside as he put the phone away and stumbled upward from the crate.
Sam tried the doorknob and shook it. He pounded on the door. "Hey, let me out!"
Sam sweated in the room. What was his sanctuary suddenly felt like a tomb. He flicked the light on. He pounded on the door until he heard another voice. It was Ramerez the other night janitor.
"Hey Mr. Townes. You in there?"
"Yes! The door is blocked."
"Someone played a prank. Put a chair under the knob. I think someone likes jerking your chain, no?"
By forestport12
Sam kept busy serving meals at the shelter on Thanksgiving morning. As he slapped stuffing on trays from behind the counter, his mind drifted over to Taylor and Chris living at a Hampton Inn like they won a lottery. He knew with her drug dealing boyfriend back in town, it would put Taylor and her pregnancy at risk.
He ignored the voice in his head from Dr. Reed's advice, "Don't get too involved with Taylor and her baby. Your wife just had a miscarriage. It will cloud your judgement."
The shelter was the ministry that gave him purpose, a place where he got people off the street. He made a difference in the city of Syracuse. And besides, why would God lead her to the shelter, if him helping her wasn't meant to be?
As Sam filled plates and smiled at the toothless grins and bloodshot eyes on the food line, he knew something had to be done.
After serving from the food line, Sam grabbed his coat off a hook in the office and prepared his own plates of food from the kitchen for his trip to the hotel. The outside air was cold and crisp. It hovered around freezing, creating a vapor mist from the remaining snow.
Plopping into his car, Sam put his phone on a speaker and called the number from days ago. He breathed easier hearing Taylor's voice. "Hello."
Taylor, it's me, Sam. I want to bring you Thanksgiving dinner. What's your room number?"
"Um," He heard her speak across the room. "Ok if that guy from the shelter brings over some food?"
In the distance, Sam heard his response. "Yeah, sure, whatever. Isn't he the guy that wants your baby?"
"You mean our baby. And no, my baby is not for sale."
Sam chimed in. "Taylor, no! I've never said that. I want you and the baby to be healthy."
"Room number is 401. And bring some pie. Pumpkin. I'm craving pumpkin."
Sam took a deep breath, fired up his Subaru, and on the way to the motel, he prayed for Taylor, but mostly tried to convince God, he was doing the right thing.
Sam shifted through the automatic doors and smiled at the girl at the front desk. She looked at his bag of covered food. "Are you here to deliver? We have a policy that we call up to the room for them to come down."
Sam limped over to the girl with shoulder length brown hair and bright blue eyes. "Oh no I'm not Door Dash or anything. I have someone who asked me to bring them Thanksgiving dinner and visit for a while. Room 401."
"Ok," she said. "That's 4th floor, end of the hall, and turn right from the elevator."
"Ok, will do."
A stabbing pain radiated from his leg to his hip as he limped to the elevator. He did his best to smile through the pain. He'd forgotten his pills. After having stood in a serving line at the shelter, it was taking a toll.
Sam rode the elevator to the 4th floor, turned and headed for room 401. He knocked on the door. The television could be heard beyond his ears.
As the door flew open, the sound was deafening. Chris stared at him with big brown eyes and a goatee. He smiled until Sam could see silver fillings. "So here you are! The man who wants to give us Thanksgiving dinner. Aren't you a nice guy."
Chris snatched the bag from him and pulled out the covered plates of food. He set it on a cherry wood table with a lamp. But Sam's eyes caught what he knew wasn't spilt sugar on the dresser where the Television was. Taylor Sat on the edge of the bed scrolling on Chris's phone.
Chris reached across the bed and snatched the phone. "I told you I'm doing business on that phone." Then he dove into a plate of food from the desk. He took the other plate and tossed on the bed toward Taylor.
Taylor looked at Sam. "Where's my pie?"
"I'm sorry, we were all out."
Taylor watched Sam, as he looked at her on the edge of the bed with a stretch shirt over her stomach looking like a giant melon on her bone thin appearance. She had racoon eyes. Her once blonde hair revealed dark roots. He knew she was using again.
"Taylor, are you okay?" He shouted over the television blaring.
"I'm fine. Thanks for the meal."
Chris stood up, wiped stuffing from his mouth with a sleeve. "I'm expecting company soon. They may not like you being here."
"Please come back to the hospital."
Taylor flipped through the channels with a lost look.
Chris walked over with his key card and used it to snort the last of his Crack from the dresser.
"I'm praying for you, Taylor."
Chris shook his head from the sweet sting to his brain. "I don't think she's a nun material. Thanks for the grub."
The tension in the air needed a steak knife to cut it.
Sam left like a scalded dog.
In the hallway, Sam got a call from his wife, Sarah. "Sam, where are you? Thanksgiving dinner is ready. Biscuits are in the oven. Are you on the way?"
| Author Notes | I would classify this story as a family thriller. It is a work of fiction but inspired by real characters like Doctor Reed who in a previous chapter or two was introduced. He is indeed someone who makes a difference using his practice in the city. |
By forestport12
Postpartum. That's what Doctor Reed warned Sam about with his wife. Although the last miscarriage was a stillborn birth, she was exhibiting classic signs. What to do about Sarah? Sam should be the one keeping an eye on her, meeting her needs. He wanted to bring her home from her mother's house. Guilt churned inside him until it burned. He should have been focused on her, instead of the pregnant girl Taylor he befriended from the shelter.
Sam pulled into his mother-in-law's driveway, wondering if it would be the perfect storm. He knew it meant low pressure systems coming together to create mass chaos. His mother-in law's guilting of him for endangering his wife-meant he might go down with the ship. After pulling into the driveway, he breathed a sigh, knowing his sister-in-law Kate would be there with her husband Jack and their two children, Miya and Mark. Just maybe they would be all buffer he needed.
Rita's house was in a cul-de-sac, a large two-story house with plenty of empty rooms. The lawyer father passed away with a heart attack at a work desk full of pending litigation for clients. One could say he worked himself to death and left his wife plenty. As Sam stumbled from his car and found the door, he imagined her coiled behind the door ready to strike.
When Sam rang the doorbell, it reverberated through the house. Rita answered the door wearing bloody red lipstick contrasted with her pasty appearance. Her sharp tongue seemed ready to strike like an adder.
"Hello, Sam. Come in. You're late. We're on dessert."
"Great. I love dessert first."
Rita rolled her eyes.
Kate and Jack's kids came running to the rescue. "Uncle Sam!" They cried in unison. They latched to him and led him to his seat at the table in the spacious dinning room with a chandelier for lighting above the gathering where a large turkey was the centerpiece.
Sam felt his mother-in-law's eyes drilling the back of his brain. He sat next to his wife until she stood. "I'm going to heat your plate in the microwave."
Sam reached for her hand as he sat down, as she pulled away. It was the first time he had felt her skin on his since the night she miscarried. It was a static charge. Electric.
"Dr. Reed stopped by the house for a visit day before," Rita said, as she sat down and nibbled on a wing.
Sam nodded, as Kate spoke up from the other side next to her husband Jack. "Sarah said you were at the Rescue Mission help to serve dinners." Sam always loved her perky and glowing look when talking.
Jack chimed in. "I think what you're doing is important. I wouldn't have minded helping. I'd like to see your operation some time."
Jack wouldn't mind tasting the food your serve," Kate offered.
Jack rubbed his son's waxy brown hair. "Your mother told me she has more of me to love, and besides someone has to make sure the food won't spoil."
Sam was in a cloud over his wife. All he could think about was how Sarah went into the kitchen. He excused himself from the table.
Everyone smiled, but his mother-in-law looked like she was sitting on nails.
As Sam entered the kitchen, the microwave dinged. Sarah was loading dishes in the dishwasher.
Sam brushed up next to her. He breathed in her floral fragrance, reminding him of how the scent of her still lingered in their bedroom. With his stomach in knots, he put a hand over her shoulder and squeezed. "I missed you, honey. I can't live in an empty house without you. I'm lost without you."
Sarah turned, and they embraced. The softness of her breast and her arms pressing his backside awakened a passion in him once dormant. Tears filled her eyes. "Your foods getting cold again."
The sight of her wet blue eyes caused his eyes to water. He fingered his eyes. "Please, Sarah. We will be a family. God has a plan. We just need to be together."
Sarah nodded and wiped her nose. "Okay."
"So, I can pack you up and take you home?"
She nodded, "Yes." She turned and pulled his plate from the microwave.
When Sam turned around, he watched her mother, who held a cup in her hand. "I need some coffee," she said with a scowl.
Sam took his plate with a deep breath and shuffled back into the dining room. Even though he walked with a handicap, in that moment he felt as if he could float, maybe sprout wings.
Then a voice in his head asked, "What harm would it do to tell his wife about the pregnant girl he met?" After all, Taylor might be willing to give her baby away. They'd be saving a baby. He would go down that road, even with the caution signs.
| Author Notes | I would classify this as a family thriller. |
By forestport12
Sam could hardly contain his excitement over driving his wife home. For once her mother didn't have much to say. He believed she secretly wanted Sarah to leave him for good. It's been an unhealthy tug of war. He heaved a sigh when pulling into the driveway of their country home, far from the nosy neighbors of cookie cutter homes.
He looked over at his wife. Her brown hair pinned back, but a lost look in her eyes, a hopeless place. Sam sought to bring her into the present with his words. "I'll get all your things out. I just want you to go inside and relax. I can even order us something; or we can heat up leftovers for dinner."
"I'm not hungry. I think, I just want to go to bed early."
The days were getting shorter, but it wasn't dark yet. The sun was hugging the milky horizon across rolling farm hills. "If you like, I can put some logs in the fireplace, and we can snuggle?"
Tears formed in her eyes. She leaned into him. "You're a good man Sam. I always wanted a house full of children, the innocence and trust they have in us to protect them, give them a future. Contagious laughter filling the house. Kid's running to the door because daddy is home from making a living." Sarah's voice cracked. Tears pressed against his eyes until it burned. "God knows you would be the best father a wife could want."
He was surprised, shocked really that she broached the subject. He feared the mere mention of children after the last miscarriage. "I believe in God's providence, babe. I know you do too. God has a plan for us."
Sam wanted to pull the trigger and tell her about Taylor, the pregnant drug addict. He wanted to tell her his finding her was no accident. But something inside him put the brakes on his next words. It was too much too soon! He just needed to get her in the house, go easy on her. Let her rest; let her vent until the time was right.
Sam went around the back of the car and gathered her suitcases while Sarah went through the front door, unlocking it with her key. He fumbled his way to the door and shimmied the luggage inside. It was then a cold draft sliced him to the bone.
Sarah turned to Sam unwilling to take her coat off. "There must be an open window."
Sam volunteered to press toward the cold draft. It rattled his bones. He heard the furnace running.
Sarah offered. "I'd like to make us some hot tea with lemon and honey. Would you like that?"
"Sounds good."
Sarah went to the left by the stairs toward the kitchen. Sam split to the right of the stairs into the living room where the draft came from. The slider to the back deck was open!
Sam stumbled over, leaned his head outside. There was nothing there but the wind. He shut the slider, recalled how Dr. Reed said he should have it fixed.
He had the urge to check the house. The what ifs crawled up the backside of his brain. He didn't want Sarah to get upset, if it was nothing. It was only open a few feet. He must have done it himself when he checked the hanging bird feeder in the morning.
Sarah walked from the kitchen and met Sam halfway near the stairs. "Did you find the draft?"
"Yes, I left the slider open to the back deck, just enough to create a wind tunnel."
"Okay. Tea is almost ready. Um, ah remember when a mouse got in the house?"
"I'm going to check upstairs, just to be sure."
"More drafts? A mouse?"
Sam threw off his coat on the bench near the door. I'll be back in a jiff. Then I will get our fireplace going. Okay?"
"Sure." Her arms were folded when the kettle pot whistled through the house.
Sam turned to see Sarah head back into the kitchen. As he clawed his way up, he was reminded of his one bad leg and how moving quickly is not what he's known for. On his way, he convinced himself that there would be nothing more than a squirrel or a mouse, no human, certainly not a thief.
He took steps down the hall, recalling how he left the door to the baby room open when Taylor spent the night. He stiffened at the door when he saw the solar system that hung and spun when you wind it up for a baby. It swayed, as if some unknown draft made it move.
He talked himself out of it. It was gnawing on the back of his brain. He quickly thought of Taylor, but then realized she couldn't possibly have been here. He reached for his cellphone in his pants pocket. He scrolled for her number. Thought about dialing while sitting on the edge of the bed next to the crib.
Sarah shouted for Sam. "Sam its ready! Please get the fireplace going. I'm not taking my coat off until you do."
"I'll be right down." Sam put the phone back in his hip pocket before tapping the send button. He made sure to close the baby room, then checked the bathroom, putting the used towel and wash cloth in the hamper. He clung to the rail going down, shifting his weight gingerly. "I didn't hear any animal noises."
Sam sloped over to the fireplace and put a starter log in the fire. He lit a match and absorbed the warm flame to his face. He crouched and turned to Sarah who sat there, the love of his life. He saw the glow reach her soft and supple face until there was a bronze look to it. She had a blanket to share with Sam. Steam lifted from the cup of hot tea on the end table.
Sam crawled on the couch next to her. They clasped each other with the blanket wrapped around their shoulders. He started nodding off to sleep, until he heard a female voice from his pocket say, hello. Who is this? You must have butt dialed me. Hello!"
Sam reached in his coat pocket. It was Taylor's voice. "Hello."
Sarah pressed Sam. "Who could be calling you on Thanksgiving eve? It's not the shelter, is it?"
"It's someone who stayed there." He pressed his ear to the phone and leaned over from the couch.
"Is this you, Sam? My boyfriend took off. I have his phone, so cops can't track him."
"Where are you?"
I'm still at the Hampton Inn. But they are going to throw me out! I've got no money. Can you pay for a night?"
"I'll set you up at the shelter."
"I don't like the shelter. I'm around strangers."
"I will call Lisa. She works the night shift. You know her, right?"
"You didn't tip the police off, did you? If you did, I can't know what Chris might do. He's got a hair trigger."
Sam swallowed a lump in his throat. "I will make a call to the shelter."
"What about your place? What about the baby room with the bed beside the crib? No one there needs it."
"No, no I can't. I can't do that." He leaned further away from Sarah. He couldn't tell if his wife looked confused or annoyed-maybe both.
Taylor added. "Oh, I get it you're back with your wife. Good for you. But I bet you haven't told her about me- or about us, I mean."
"No."
Taylor hung up. But she'd almost made it sound like they were some kind of item for the tabloids.
| Author Notes | A Family Thriller would be the best way to tag this novel. |
By forestport12
Sam turned off his phone, leaned into his wife on the couch. She opened her blanket and welcomed him into her cocoon.
"I don't need the phone. I'm going off grid for a while, babe. I need you more."
His heart skipped a beat when she returned his words with a playful sigh and a smile. The person he fell in love with was coming back into her own skin. He didn't think it was possible that he could love her more, but it was a real thing.
Her face glowed from the fireplace. She massaged his stiff neck. Soon, Sam's eyes shifted to the flames of the fireplace until his eyes fell like trap doors.
Sam suddenly found himself walking alone in the woods where a baby screamed a blood curdling cry. He followed a deer path, as the sounds grew louder. He fell to his knees and dug with his hands. Could a child be buried alive? His eyes fixed on a baby monitor in the dirt, as if it were a sick joke. But all too real!
He screamed and lurched forward almost falling on the floor.
Sarah grabbed his shoulders. "Sam! Are you okay?"
He stared at the fire. There are no longer the sounds of a baby crying, just the crackling fire and his heart beating into his ears. He twisted toward Sarah and hugged her like a child once lost in the woods. "Just a bad dream," he said. "Let's go to bed, babe."
Sarah crinkled her nose. She gave him a one-eyed look. "You want to talk about it?"
"It's okay. I'm just so, so tired. I haven't slept well since you were gone. I just want to hold you,
Honey."
"I couldn't sleep either. We never spent even one night apart. I'm so sorry I left you alone." She choked up and cried on his neck until he could feel her warm tears.
"It's okay, babe. I was wrong. You needed the time after the last miscarriage. I was selfish."
The house was dark except for the fireplace and the faint light from stars beyond the patio door. Sam stumbled over to the slider and wedged an old broke broom handle in the bottom to secure it.
The pair hugged each other up the stairs. Sam relied on Sarah to steady himself until they crested the top. There was a night light in the hall glowing, as they leaned into each other toward the bedroom.
Not bothering with a light in the room, they sat on each side of the bed and peeled off everything but the undergarments. They slipped under the covers until they found each other and the warmth of their skin. Sam found the nerve to ask her if she was healing down under.
"I'm okay."
"I...I don't want you to think I asked because..."
"I know. It's okay." Her back was to him, as she tucked her knees.
Sam kissed her on the ear. He spooned with her in the darkness and breathed on her neck. "I just want to hold you. I love you."
More tears glistened in the darkness from her eyes. "I love you so much."
He was having flashbacks to their wedding night. How innocent and unpretentious were the words they shared like two kids navigating an unknown adventure, discovering each other for the first time, yet not wanting to trip on a land mine.
"It's okay," she said. "It's okay."
It sent shockwaves through him to hear the tenderness in her permission when he once thought he could lose her. All the hurt and pain melted away in their embrace.
The pair fell asleep clinging to each other when sounds from the roof jarred Sam from his sleep. He looked over at the red glowing clock. It was 3:30 in the morning. Sarah stirred and rolled over.
Sam grabbed his phone from the nightstand and crawled out of bed. He turned his phone on to use it for a nightlight. He shifted down the hall toward the hanging rope of the attic stairs. If squirrels were in the attic, he'd need his old baseball vest and catcher's mask.
A swath of light illuminated the darkness downstairs below him from a car in the driveway pulling out. It almost blinded him. He grabbed the railing of the stairs and fumbled his way to the front door. But it was too late! When he opened the door, they were gone, red taillights disappearing around a bend on the country road.
Sam looked down at the phone he promised to turn off for Sarah's sake. Several text alerts came, first from Taylor's phone, then the last one was from Lisa at the city shelter. Sam turned and looked up to see his wife standing in her nightgown above the stairs.
| Author Notes | A Family Thriller and a redemption story. |
By forestport12
Sam left the house early. He slipped from under the covers as the sun filtered through the thin curtains. He hoped Sarah would sleep late. He showered, shaved, and dressed in the bathroom. The stairs creaked under the weight of every painful step toward the door. He left a note for Sarah on the table by the front door.
As Sam grabbed his coat from the closet, he thought of the note. He told her he had to fix a problem at the shelter. No details. He told her he would be back before noon. He stepped into the deceptive cold under the milky halo of the sun.
Climbing into the car, starting the ignition, he prayed out loud to himself. "Lord, no more games. I was afraid to ask you what to do about Taylor the pregnant girl. I'm leaving it in your hands. I'm sorry for messing things up. Please protect my family."
As he pulled from the driveway, he shuddered with tears, wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, as he imagined Taylor giving birth in a back alley somewhere. "Please, God, don't let that baby be born in a world like a piece of trash. I'm begging you. Else why, why would you have put her in my path?"
Sam sniffled some more. Tears stung his eyes, almost blinding him. His tires squawked around the hairpin turn. Blood ran from his fingers with a vice-grip on the wheel. He blinked and fought for focus, as the city of Syracuse came into view from the hillside road.
Coming into the city, Sam had his eureka moment. Driving his Subaru through the city streets and a few blocks away from the Rescue Mission, he knew there was no one to blame but himself. He broke the number one rule. Never allow those at the shelter to have your phone number or address. He wanted to hit his head on the wheel. He probably broke more than one rule, maybe half a dozen. "Don't let your heart hurt your family." He said it to himself as he parked on the grit layered curb. Instead of using his head on the steering wheel, he made his knuckles turn white with a chokehold on it.
A scruff looking man appeared on the passenger side window and made a motion to let his window down. He smelled like used oil. "You got a few bucks I can borrow. I'm a veteran."
Sam halted his tantrum, then dug in his pants pocket for a couple of wadded up dollars and handed it to him. "You know there's a chow line starting up in a couple hours at the Mission?"
The man shrugged him off and headed in the direction of a liquor store that wouldn't open for another hour. Somedays it was hard for Sam to tell what location was the most popular.
Sam shifted from his car toward the Rescue Mission. His goal was to find out if anyone had seen Taylor, the pregnant girl. He could have called the number on his phone, but if the director found out that she's some kind of personal project, he'd face a forced resignation. It wasn't only his wife that he needed to protect from unruly clients. But his ministry was priceless, because it gave him purpose. It gave him a means to share the gospel and get real where people live.
Sam pushed his way through the turn style from the dirty sidewalk and signs plagued with a film of dirt. It seemed since the snow melted, there was a left-over crustiness to the buildings and streets too. As soon as he banged through the doors, his boss, the director, was there to greet him in the open space where beds lined the walls.
"Hey, Sam. What brings you here on Friday, the day after Thanksgiving?"
It caught Sam off guard. His mouth dropped. He couldn't just try to single out Taylor without having some explanation. He shook hands, "Hey Creg. I've got some time off from my job as a janitor, if you need me to come in and cover a shift."
"No, I think we got it covered."
"Lisa coming in tonight?"
"Pretty sure, I'd have to double check. I do appreciate the help you gave us serving dinner on Thanksgiving Day. It was all hands-on deck."
Sam looked around, not sure how to get past the director and into the office to look at the logbooks. "Hey, Creg, if you don't mind, I'd like to see if I left a spare key in the office drawer."
It wasn't a lie. Sam worried that somehow, the lights flooding his house at night could have meant someone wanted to get inside. Then he thought of Taylor's veiled warning over her boyfriend Chris who was on the run from the law.
"No worries. You have your key to the office?"
Sam dug into his pants pocket. "Yes, I've got it on my ring."
"Okay, then. Have at it."
Creg turned away and was busy making up some beds. Sam shuffled to the back and unlocked the main control office where the windows flanked a view of the homeless and their bunks. After going inside, he looked over at Creg and took the clipboard off a nail. He set it down on the metal desk, ran his finger down the logbook until he found Taylor's name, but then it was scratched out. It meant one thing. She checked in only to leave before morning.
Sam opened the desk drawer but couldn't find the spare key to his house. Then he recalled giving it to his wife weeks ago.
Sam placed the log sheet back on the nail and opened the door. He yelled over to Creg. "I need to get back to the wife before she wakes up. I'm hoping to bring her breakfast in bed."
Creg turned from fluffing a pillow. "How is she? I'm sorry about your loss."
Every time it was mentioned, it came with a sharp stab to his heart. The last time was especially painful. It was the first time he had held a child, a baby boy, in his hands. It was pure torture to come so far along, only to have him lifeless in his arms.
"Thanks Creg. I don't know what I'd do without this ministry. In a way it helps me heal more than those in need."
Creg smiled. "Every day is our day of grace. Blessings around bend, brother!"
"Amen." Sam plowed through the door and into the street. He fumbled for his keys and couldn't wait to get into his car to call the phone number. Once he was sure Taylor was okay, he'd finally build on the buffer he wanted to give his wife from all the street drama.
Sam started his engine, pulled from curb, and then placed a call on speakerphone. The phone rang several times, but no answer. He drove on through several city blocks, debating whether he should stop at the Hampton Inn again. "Come on Taylor, pick-up."
He put the phone in the slot and hit send again. Once again it rang several times until a voicemail came through in Chris, the dealer's voice. "Hey, I'm not here right now. State your business or make yourself scarce."
Sam hung up and almost forgot to stop at a light. His phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring. "Taylor."
"Sam! Where are you?"
"Sarah?" Sam looked at the phone, pulled through the last intersection and headed for the hills.
"I called the police! I think someone's in the house. Where are you?"
Sam floored it up the first hill outside of town. "I'm coming. Are you sure. Get out! Get out now. Wait for the police. I'm on the way."
"I'm outside in my bathrobe. Where else can I go?"
Sam's heart hammered. He took the snaked curve on the crest of the hill and made another turn until the city grew small in his rearview mirror. "Listen to me..."
"I heard noises above my head. It woke me up. And you weren't here!"
"Listen to me, calm down. It's probably just a racoon or a squirrel in the attic."
"I heard a cellphone ring, Sam. A cellphone above my head. And it wasn't you!"
"Oh, no...no!"
"The police are here now, and you're not."
"I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry."
"I thought I was hearing things. Then I thought it had to be you. I jumped from our bed and looked around. I started downstairs to find you. Then I heard it again! A phone was ringing."
Sam drove like a man possessed until a thunderous, crashing thought split his mind. "What if the calls he made, meant Chris and Taylor were hiding in his house all this time?
| Author Notes |
Sam is like most of us. He was supposed go in the ministry like his father. His work at the Mission is what drives him more than his regular job that must support his family.
This is meant as a family thriller with a heavy dose of redemption and grace, a prescription many of us need. |
By forestport12
A police car sat in the driveway, lights flashing, doors opened. Sam ditched his car on the side of the road.
Sarah sat on the front step in her blue bathrobe. Sam dragged his bad leg, stumbling forward. As he drew closer, he attempted to gauge his wife's demeanor. He wasn't sure if he needed to kneel first and beg Sarah for forgiveness. He wanted to wait and see what the police found inside before he repented.
Sarah raised her hands in the air, as if she would claw at him should he step closer. The veins in her neck swelled. She turned away for a moment and looked at the fields across the way. His heart tightened until it hurt.
"Sam, I know there's something you're not telling me." She stood, but it wasn't to give him a hug. "Please don't tell me this has to do with the shelter. I just know someone's in the house."
Sam put a hand on her shoulder. "Let the police do their work."
"I told them to check the attic. I know what I heard, a cellphone ring, muffled shuffling."
Sam hugged his wife. She caved into him. The door popped open. A young dark-haired police man in his twenties talked on the radio attached to him, as he looked at Sam. He quizzed him. "Are you the husband?"
Sam nodded.
"We've got him."
Sarah cut in. "Who? Got who?"
"He ran out the back patio door, but we had another patrol car head him off on the road and then caught up to him before he headed into the woods."
"There was someone!" Sarah shuddered in Sam's arms.
"The officer looked at Sarah, turning white as a sheet. "Do you want me to call an ambulance, ma'am?"
Sam was light-headed. "Can we go inside?"
"We think it's the drug dealer from Syracuse. We've been looking for this guy."
Sam and Sarah held on to each other. "My wife is cold. Can we go inside now?"
"Let me check with my partner. I'm officer Davis, by the way." He opened the door and leaned inside the house. He looked upstairs. Kelly, you got her down?"
Looking above the stairs to the open hallway stood a female police officer with her brown hair cropped, holding the pregnant Taylor by the arm. The draw ladder was down with the pole rope dangling from access to the attic.
The policewoman led Taylor down the stairs. The other officer made a motion with handcuffs. Taylor looked like she crawled around some with smudged white sweatpants and a tan tank top stretched over her pregnant belly.
Sam stood in the doorway wearing his best bland face to what should have been a shock. He turned to Sarah, whose jaw dropped over the image of a fully pregnant girl taken from their attic, about to be handcuffed. She covered her mouth with a hand and looked at Sam, as if he should be the one offering an explanation. The pair parted from the door, making way for Taylor and the officers.
Suddenly Sarah's expression went from shock to compassion, as Taylor was led away. She couldn't have helped noticing Taylor's sunken face, the bags under her eyes, and dirty blonde hair like a rat's nest. "Please wait. Is it necessary to handcuff her?"
Officer Davis was about to snap the cuffs on her. "You are pressing charges, aren't you?"
Sarah looked at Sam who couldn't hide his disdain for Taylor any longer. Instead of answering the officer directly. She took aim at her husband. "She's from the shelter, isn't she? The one you've been dealing with?"
Sam nodded. The policewoman spoke up. "We need to take her in for questioning. Even if you don't press charges, she needs to account for whether she was helping a fugitive. She needs to fill some details for us."
Sarah took a step towards Taylor as if to comfort her. She held her hand. "Sweetie, are you okay?"
Taylor looked at Sarah, then Sam. She barely spoke above a whisper. "I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry about this. My life isn't worth two cents."
Suddenly it was the Sarah Sam knew when they were dating. She'd stop and talk to homeless people at intersections holding signs. Her compassion knew no bounds until jaded by a childless life. "You have someone inside you who needs you," she said. "The innocent baby will one day look into your eyes as if you were--priceless."
It was magical if not miraculous with how barriers broke down and what was a tense moment between everyone changed. Even the policewoman's steely blue eyes moistened.
Sam inserted himself. "I think what my wife and are saying is that we don't want to press charges against her, but we want her to get the medical attention she needs. We understand that you will need to hold her for questioning."
Officer Davis nodded. "We will see she gets checked out first. We do need to ask her some questions about helping her boyfriend whose wanted."
Officer Jessica responded. "So long as Taylor cooperates, she won't need to be cuffed. It doesn't look like she can get too far in her condition."
Before Sarah let go of her hand, she spoke directly to Taylor. "I don't know all your past. But you need to know you are loved. You are worthy. And if you need us, we are here for you."
As the police led Taylor away, she appeared confused and broken. Leaving through the front door, it appeared as if it was the first time someone had told her she was worth something.
Sam didn't know what to expect from Sarah when the door closed. Maybe she'd have mercy on him. He could taste the churning acid rising from his stomach.
| Author Notes |
Sam works part-time at the city shelter
Sarah is Sam's wife who suffered through several miscarriages Taylor is a very pregnant drug addict from the streets Chris is Taylor's boyfriend whose a drug dealer in hiding...Until... |
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