The thing about anxiety and panic attacks was they could strike at any time. There were also triggers and some kind of mental/emotional threshold that once reached, could push me over the edge. Or something. It was all annoying and quite confusing. Also exhausting.
Thankfully I had a secret weapon — Sam. He distracted me from hackers and security breaches with playful banter and tossing grapes in the air to catch in his mouth. He threw a few up for me to catch, but more landed on the deck and rolled onto the forest floor than on my tongue. Sam’s laughter and smiling blue eyes calmed my nerves and focused my thoughts on what really mattered — him and me.
Between bites of roast beef on rye, tomato juice running down my chin, I listened to Sam’s ramblings about nothing important and flashed back to meeting him in Hawaii all those many months ago. The sound of his voice soothing my soul. The heady excitement of a guy — a very sexy guy — wanting to hang out with me and do nothing, just be together. That he still wanted me, wanted to move to St. Louis and continue to build a life together — it did things to my insides. Good things. I didn’t deserve him, but maybe that wasn’t the point. Maybe I didn’t have to be anything more than I already was for Sam to want me…for me.
He certainly did an excellent job distracting me for the remainder of the evening. The angst-filled conversations from work faded far into the background as we cleaned up our dinner mess and moved inside to the living room while Maggie cooked casseroles and filled Tupperware containers in the kitchen.
Sitting on the couch, Sam gently pulled my head into his lap as he flipped through TV channels, looking for something to watch. What he found, I don’t know, as I was out like a light the second I settled in.
I woke hours later to Sam kissing my forehead and softly rubbing my back. I groaned and stretched, tension knotting my muscles. It was dark outside. The TV was off, and we lay there in the quiet, just being together. It was perfect. My home. My safe place.
Without a word, Sam stirred and I sat up slowly. He stood and extended a hand, pulling me to my slightly unsteady feet and leaned in for a sweet kiss.
“Let’s go to bed.”
I murmured agreement and followed, never letting go of his hand. Back in our room, he closed the door behind us and gently kissed my neck.
“What do you need?” he whispered, lips brushing my cheek.
“You. Need you. Inside me.”
A minute later I was naked, face down on the bed, skin flushed and tingly as Sam kneaded the pent-up tension from my shoulders and spine, moving down to work over my lower back and ass muscles. With each push and squeeze, I relaxed another degree or two. Sam’s hard, heavy cock settled into my butt crack as he leaned forward to prod the aching muscles between my shoulder blades, finding a hot spot and digging in deep. I groaned and arched my ass into his crotch.
“Sam, please, I need you.”
“I feel that, little man. Relax, I’ve got you.”
He dribbled more massage oil on my back, then smeared it into my ass crack with his dick. I moaned obscenely as he slowly breached my hole with no prep. I didn’t need any. The burn, the stretch, the fleeting pain morphing into overwhelming pleasure — I wanted more, needed so much more.
I pushed back to meet his thrusts, forcing him deeper. Yet the more I pushed, the more he slowed his rhythm. The leisurely pace was at first frustrating, but Sam soothed my impatience with gentle touches and soft encouraging words. I settled down and gave him total control, and I felt something in my soul letting go. I relished every centimeter of his dick moving inside me. No hurry, just connection. Excruciatingly perfect.
With tender kisses on the back of my neck and his tongue tracing up and down my spine, Sam continued his languid claim to my body. I lost hold of time and thought. All that mattered was Sam, possessing and owning, and me riding a wave of joyful bliss. I grabbed his wrists at either side of my head and arched back for a kiss.
Sam’s lips and tongue found mine, tangling in the heat. He drove his dick even deeper, forcing my junk into the mattress. I held perfectly still, every muscle tightening, the beginnings of an orgasm forming behind my balls.
“I’m so close,” I whispered. “Please don’t stop.”
“Me too. Oh, fuck, you feel so good. Squeeze tighter.”
Miniscule friction against the sheet was all it took to send me into a hands-free, almost whole-body orgasm. I couldn’t even make a sound as I shook underneath Sam. His slow and steady rhythm shattered and with a deep groan, his cock unloaded in my ass.
I clung to his wrists as he continued thrusting, the muscles inside my ass clenching repeatedly in uncontrolled tremors around his cock. Still moaning softly, Sam collapsed, his weight flattening me to the bed. His breathing evened out and he started to roll off.
“Stay. Please.”
He pushed his arms under and around my chest, and I held on to him, relishing the weight of him. I was only vaguely aware when he eventually pulled out and came back to clean us up with a warm washcloth. Spooning up behind me, he pulled me tight against his chest and I disappeared into dreamland.
Sadly, I didn’t stay there.
The face of Arnold Turner materialized in a nightmare, chasing me with a huge black gun, bullets whizzing past my head as I ran further and further into a dark forest. Bark splintered to the left and right. Ducking and weaving through spindly branches clutching and clawing at me, I finally broke free, only to plunge off a cliff, free-falling to my certain doom.
I awoke with a gasp, lungs heaving. The sheet under me was soaked. I pushed wet hair off my forehead and slowly sat up. Thankfully Sam was softly snoring next to me, and that alone brought my fevered heart rate down a notch.
Okay…it was only a dream.
With a throbbing headache, I stumbled to the bathroom, closed the door as quietly as possible, then collapsed on the rug. A few remaining muscle spasms became shivers as my skin chilled in the cool, dry air.
What the fuck? Arnold fucking Turner? I hadn’t thought about him in like, forever. Where did he come from? And fuck my stupid head for even allowing him back in. Like I didn’t have enough to deal with without reliving that asshole’s psychotic bullshit.
Okay…apparently my anxiety-riddled brain had an internal potty mouth. Who knew?
Sitting there in the dark, I did what Dr. Margolis taught me. Five things I could see? Um…okay…it’s dark, but I can see the window frame, the shower door, the towel hanging in the ring next to the sink. I see the toilet, and yeah, I can see the two pictures of birds on the wall. Four things I can touch? The counter top above my right shoulder. The toilet paper roll. My knees. The cabinet doors on the vanity. Three things I can hear? The hum of the air conditioning in the vent above my head. My breath, in and out. The faint sound of animal noises outside the wall behind me. Two things I can smell? Sandalwood and citrus shampoo. The combo of lemon and bleach from cleaning products. One thing I could taste? Bile on my tongue, as acid churned in my stomach.
Still, the technique worked its magic and I settled down, heart rate more or less normal again. Tension drained from my neck and shoulders, and I no longer felt nauseous. It’s the little things.
The door cracked, startling me.
“You okay?” asked Sam, moving slowly, eyes searching mine.
I stood, legs a little less wobbly than when I’d stumbled in. “I’m okay. Sorry I woke you.”
He pulled me close, then realized I was still a little sweaty and pulled back.
“Sorry,” I said.
“Shower?”
“Uh…sure.”
He nodded and turned the shower controls to hot. I shivered in the darkness. Sam noticed and pulled me to his body despite my clammy skin. I sighed, turning a cheek to rest on his hairy chest. When the water was warm enough, we stepped into the shower together, and Sam quickly washed my body with deliberate movements.
Clean again, we dried ourselves and changed the sheets on the bed. Sam said nothing, but touched me often, and those caresses completely calmed my frayed nerves. Back in bed, he pulled me tight against him. I rested my cheek on his bicep and slipped into a thankfully dreamless sleep.
I spent most of the morning going over budgets and investment plans with Todd and Simon, struggling to focus. I wanted more than anything to be home with Sam, helping him pack and prepare for our road trip to St. Louis. Over breakfast he more or less demanded I tell Dr. Margolis about the dreams and all the rest. I sighed and agreed, mostly because I knew he was right. I needed help.
He also let me know he thought I needed a proper rest, and his idea of an extended road trip was just the ticket. If it meant more time with him and no one else, I was on board.
I didn’t want to be selfish, but he was right — I was exhausted. Which on one hand was understandable, and on the other, irritating. I suspected it had very little to do with my activity levels and more the ongoing battle with anxiety. Getting away could maybe break the cycle and give me a chance to catch up.
“Earth to Jack,” said Simon, grinning.
I jerked my eyes back to the conversation. “Sorry. Million miles away. What were you saying?”
Todd grinned. “I was telling Simon we stand to lose fifty million this year, give or take.”
“What! You told me we don’t do that!”
Simon laughed. “Relax, boss. He’s pulling your chain. We’re good. Very good, actually.”
I glared at Todd. “Not funny.”
“Kinda was,” he said. I couldn’t stop my own grin. Okay, yeah, it was.
“What else?” I asked.
“That’s it,” said Todd.
“What do either of you need from me?”
“Todd said you might talk to Colin Napier about stepping in to guide the hotel ops?” said Simon.
“Oh…right. Yes, I’ll call him right now, before it gets any later.”
It took a bit of phone tag for Colin Napier and I to connect, but he sounded happy to hear from me.
“How are the honeymooners?” I asked when we could finally talk.
“I couldn’t say. Haven’t seen hide nor hair since dinner last evening. I suppose that’s a good thing, yes?”
I laughed. “Sounds right. And yourself? How are things on the island?”
“Humming along nicely. Excuse me one moment,” he said, partially covering the receiver on his end. I could hear muffled conversation, and then he was back. “My apologies, Mrs. Petit had a question for me. She requested I thank you again for speaking with the boys. Apparently they are becoming quite a welcome resource for her, and I dare say they do have a much improved outlook. Always smiling, always looking for ways to help. And Miss Hale has taken to helping them with their school work in the evenings.”
“School? Isn’t it a bit early in the season for that?”
He chuckled. “Not for these two. It seems they haven’t been as attentive as they could have been back at the orphanage. When I spoke with Dr. Forde regarding their, shall we say, petty larcenies, on behalf of their friend, he was quite astonished they had thought of anyone but themselves and their own good pleasure. I assured him that was not the case, and now ever more so. They’ve even requested extra assignments if I was willing to save the earnings on her behalf.”
“Sounds like quite a change.”
“Indeed. Although I can not skirt child labor laws, so the amount of work we assign is limited. But when I explained the source of their change of heart, I think the story might have softened Dr. Forde’s as well. Perhaps we may have stumbled across a way to their collective heart, as it were. Dr. Forde suggested we try to connect their school lessons with developing their future abilities to help more people, and I must say, the enthusiasm for their education fairly erupted. And Miss Hale has been a true god-send for them, almost like a big sister. They really look up to her, and I think she appreciates the opportunity as well.”
“Sounds wonderful. And your granddaughter?”
He laughed softly. “Aside from missing a certain young man from Hawaii with a passion for swimming pool design, she’s fine. She’ll be leaving soon to complete her final semester in Switzerland.”
“Wow. I didn’t realize Stubbs and Fiona had made such a connection.”
“Yes, well, I doubt it will be a lasting one. With her schooling and hopefully a management program in Europe to follow, I’m sure your friend and my granddaughter will not see much of each other any time soon.”
“Too bad, but I understand. Different paths.” Poor Stubbs.
“Yes. Now…why don’t you tell me why you really called me today?”
I laughed. “To the point, as always.”
“Saves time and all that.”
“Yes…well, the main reason for my call was to ask if you would consider helping us out with our hotels.”
“I see. In what manner do you think I could be of assistance?”
“In a nutshell, all of it.”
“All of what, exactly?”
“Well, for starters the overall level of service and operations in general. Most of the hotels are doing well, but several aren’t cutting it and need intervention, according to Simon. By someone who knows what works, and more importantly, what does not. No time to waste. Simon doesn’t like it when things aren’t efficient and prosperous.”
“Hmmm. An intriguing proposition, but with my responsibilities here, I can hardly be galavanting around the world to manage your entire portfolio.”
I sighed. “True. But I’m thinking more as an advisor, not necessarily hands-on. Couldn’t a lot of it be done remotely?”
He actually snorted. “Absolutely not. What a preposterous idea. I would need to be in the environment, feel the atmosphere from the lobby to the suites to the restaurants and pools. Running an upscale hotel and spa requires a connection to the heart and soul of the establishment, as well as her guests. No sir, there would be nothing remote about it.”
I sighed. “I see. Well, I just thought with your expertise, there really wasn’t anyone better suited to the task. I guess we’ll have to find someone else.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I just don’t see how it would be possible without a detrimental effect here in my absence.”
Ah, now we were getting down to where the rubber meets the road. I had anticipated this, so I said, “I understand. But I do wonder, sir, have you considered the fine staff you have assembled and trained at Calloway? Do you think it possible they could sustain your high standards if you were to take a very temporary absence from the island? Perhaps at a particularly quiet time in the reservation schedule?”
“Flattery will not move me, young man.”
“It’s not flattery if it’s the truth.”
A heavy sigh, full of building resignation. “Honestly, I don’t know what it is you think I could do.”
“I’m not sure, either. What I do know is that you are very, very good at what you do on Calloway, and you’ve obviously done it successfully elsewhere. Seems logical you could make a short visit to one of our hotels, take a measure of the operation, and offer suggestions for improvement. Perhaps you might even take someone under your tutelage and help us develop a robust training program focused on the things that you know matter the most. As for Calloway, I’m sure Mrs. Petit would do an acceptable job of managing things in your brief absence.”
Another sigh. “Yes, I suppose she would. But let me be quite clear, there is much more to running the island than Mrs. Petit could manage on her own.”
I smiled to myself. “Of course. I wouldn’t suggest otherwise. We’re talking a short stint off-island, make a full evaluation of one of our properties, and you’re free to go back to Calloway. You would be doing us a great favor, sir.”
“Well, since it appears you are quite determined to see this happen, I’ll give the matter some serious thought and get back to you in a day or so with a plan. Would that be agreeable to you?”
“Yes, sir, perfectly. Thank you. Give Simon a call when you have a date in mind. He can direct you to the hotel needing the most attention.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else?”
“Nope. That covers it. Thank you, again, for accommodating our friends on such short notice.”
“Of course, sir. That’s what we do here.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries and Mr. Napier ended the call.
Margie and I shared take-out chicken with wild rice soup and greek salads in the cafe for a late lunch around one thirty.
“How you holding up?” I asked, reaching for the salt shaker.
“Fine. Why?”
Catching the warning tone, I tried to back pedal — fast. “No worries. Just making sure you have everything you need while I’m gone.”
Too late. She was on to me.
“Nice try. I’ll have you know I’m five months pregnant, sleep maybe four hours a night with heartburn so bad if I burp the sheets catch fire, and I can still put out more work than the entire executive suite of this operation. So I’ll repeat, I’m fine.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
Yikes. With a deep breath, I ventured on. “So…since you’re fine and everything, is there anything you need me to do before the end of the day. Sam and I are now thinking of leaving tomorrow.”
She stopped chewing her salad and stared at me for five full seconds, then swallowed.
“Shit.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a deep breath herself. “I’m sorry, I…uh…I didn’t realize you were…I thought you’d be here through Friday.”
“My bad. Sam asked me to leave a little early, wants to make a road trip out of it, take some time to settle in before the crazy starts.”
“No, no. It’s…fine. I just…okay, well, we’re there…now.”
“Yep. You still fine?”
Daggers swished from her eyes. I might have leaned back a little.
“Watch it, mister.”
I smiled. “Seriously, Margie, anything you need, you’ll let me know, right?”
With a heavy sigh, she sat back. “Yes. I will, I promise. But honestly, if one more person asks me how I’m doing, I’m gonna scream. I really am fine. I’ve got more energy than I’ve had in weeks. I feel great.”
“I’m glad. That’s wonderful. We all just want what’s best for you, you know that right?”
“Aren’t I the best judge of what’s best for me?”
“You are. And we are but lowly minions, waiting to serve.”
She threw a crouton at me and I laughed. She smiled.
“You’re really leaving tomorrow? Seems sudden, even though we’ve been working toward this day like, forever.”
“I know, right. I thought it would never get here, and now that it is, I’m…ambivalent, I guess.”
“Ambivalent? I would have thought you’d be excited. I’m sure Sam is.”
“He is. I just hope…”
“Hope what?”
I looked away at nothing. “I hope I’m not too much of a distraction or a burden for him.”
Margie pointed her spoon in my face, her face reddening. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Do not…I repeat…do NOT start with the ‘poor Sam, he has to put up with me’ routine. Enough already. We’re not having it anymore.”
My chin dropped.
“Don’t even speak to me right now,” she continued, a hand in my face. “I mean it. I’m done listening to how you don’t think you measure up, you have nothing to offer, you’re just a burden that we all have to tip-toe around, blah, blah, blah. Maybe the guys don’t have the balls to say it, but I will – grow a pair and knock it off, already.”
I shut my mouth, stunned.
“Look, I’m not trying to hurt you, but sometimes it just needs to be said. I won’t take it back. I’ll blame the hormones or whatever, I don’t care, but I’m serious, Jack. Enough with the down talk. None of it’s true, and it’s not helpful, so can it.”
“But…”
“But nothing. There are no but’s here. You are who you are. Sam loves you – because of who you are, just the way you are. And because he loves you, he’s moving to St. Louis with you, to start a new chapter in life WITH you, and I guarantee you he’s not at home wishing he didn’t have to drag your sorry ass with him. Am I right?”
I sighed, nodding. “Yes.”
“Okay, then. Get with the program. Aren’t you the one who said relationships work best when you’re focused on the other person?”
“I did?”
“Pretty sure that was you. So maybe it’s time to practice what you preach and let go of all the rest.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Never said it was easy. I said it was the right thing to do. What is it with you anyway? You move heaven and earth to help people on a daily basis. Like super-hero-level help. How is it you know what’s right for others, but not for yourself?”
I sighed and looked away. “That’s the million dollar question.”
Her face softened and she reached for my hand. “For all of us.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’re right. I do need to get out of my head.”
“You do, but hey, I get it. It’s because you care so much. So much it hurts, sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Just..do me a favor. Look out for the line between genuine caring and feeling sorry for someone. Sam doesn’t need you feeling sorry for him, but he does need looking after, same as you. You know what I mean?”
I tried on a smile. “I think so.”
“Good. Now, let’s clean up this mess and get back to work.”
I pushed the conversation with Margie to the back of my mind to percolate. I knew what she said was true. I also knew it needed saying. I was grateful for people who had the courage to tell me what I needed to hear. Didn’t make it easy, but at least I felt…less stuck. Like I could move forward again.
After an hour with Will and Taylor, I was all set with the latest gadgetry and security sorcery to interact remotely with the team. They assured me the network at the St. Louis house would be ironclad, as well. Taylor really seemed to know her stuff, and it was a relief to know we had her level of knowledge covering us from that angle. We also agreed that she would gradually take over managing the tech department until we could groom another staffer to take the reins permanently. I needed to get Will back to Todd’s domain.
Ben was in a better mood as he drove me to what I expected would be my last appointment with Dr. Margolis.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Productive. Yours?”
“All over the place, but overall…productive.”
He looked at me in the rearview mirror and almost cracked a smile.
“We good to move out tomorrow?” I asked.
“We need to talk about who’s following you guys.”
“Do we need someone to do that?”
“Ideally, yes. Nothing’s changed on that front. But…”
“But would it be an option for us to go alone?”
“Alone? No. Watching from a distance, maybe.”
“Okay.”
“Okay? No push back? No big fuss?”
“Do you want me to push back?”
“No.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Can we talk about it with Sam at home later?” I asked. “So we’re all on the same page?”
“Sure. We’ll keep it simple.”
“Simple sounds wonderful.”
Things were not simple with Dr. Margolis. She was determined to get the most out of our last session. I suppose I was grateful, even though it was a difficult conversation. Then again every conversation with her was not one I cared to repeat.
Per our working agreement, and Sam’s insistence, I shared any anxiety-inducing experiences since our last session. That took more than half our time. I should have stretched it out. Sigh.
“I have no intention of seeing any of them,” I replied to her persistent questions about re-engaging with my family soon.
“Why not?”
“Why would I? They don’t want anything to do with me, and the feeling’s mutual. I don’t need them anymore. There’s nothing there for me but heartache and judgment, or worse. Nope, not happening.”
“Have you thought about why you are avoiding them?”
“Nope.”
“Jack…”
“Stop. Just…stop,” I said. I put my hand down. “I will not go back to that life. To that…no…just, no.”
I took a deep breath to fight back the tears, and this time I won. I meant it. No way was I going back into the hell that was my life before.
Dr. Margolis steepled her hands under her chin and stared at me, her features softening. She nodded, then dropped her hands to her lap.
“In our few remaining minutes, I’d like to make a couple of observations. Would that be okay with you, Jack?”
I nodded, bracing myself.
“First, I’d like to congratulate you on some amazing progress in the very short time we’ve had together. Being able to manage the anxiety of the nightmare and, let’s be honest, the whole day yesterday, is a big step. Keep up the good work.”
I swallowed. Okay, that was the nicest thing she’d ever said to me.
“Second, since you have made progress, I’d like to see that continue. If you’d like, I can reach out to the counseling services department at your new school and inquire about further counseling for you. Would that be agreeable?”
“Uh…I guess. If I can fit it in. Not wild about starting over, though.”
She nodded. “Understood. Would you consider remote calls with me, then?”
I knew it. Just when I could smell freedom, she suckerpunched me.
“Can I think about it?”
“Of course. None of this works if you don’t want it to.”
“Uh…I’ll let you know once I get settled.”
She smiled. “Fine. I’ll look forward to that call. I’ll leave you with this perspective to chew on in the meantime.”
My breath hitched. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear whatever she had to say.
“I want you to think about boxes.”
“Boxes? Like moving boxes?”
“Not moving boxes. More like mental containers, one for each overwhelming, anxiety-inducing experience, or in your case, actual attacks — physical and emotional — into which you put all your own feelings and thoughts about the experience and lock it away, shoving it on a shelf somewhere in your subconscious mind to deal with later — or never.”
“Uh…I’m not following.”
“Okay, an example. Arnold Turner. Please don’t take this the wrong way, I know it was in self-defense. But you killed a man, Jack. That’s a gigantic, life-altering experience, and yet, you’ve barely spoken of it, and when you do, you recite the fact of it, but none of the expected emotion. I liken this to putting the entire episode into one of these mental boxes and putting it away, because it’s just too much to deal with at this time.”
In a flash I saw what she meant. I also saw red. “So…what…I’m supposed to wallow in self-pity and endlessly analyze my feelings? Oh…I know…how about I take drugs or drink myself into oblivion to deal with it?”
She frowned at me like she would a petulant child. Okay…I might deserve that, but still.
“Here’s another — your brother, Terry. You have a whole line of boxes with his name on them. The father who left you as a small boy. There’s some for your mother, too. Those are the most sensitive ones, I suspect.”
I shifted, ready to bolt.
With a hand raised, she softened her voice. “Please, hear me out, Jack. I only mean to help, I think you know that now.”
I swallowed and relaxed half a degree.
“The boxes are completely understandable, Jack. You have them because they work for you. Until now, you haven’t had the strength, the understanding of yourself, or the fortitude to face what’s in those boxes. You’ve created a way to acknowledge they happened, but to not have to deal with them or what they actually mean. That’s scary stuff. Hence, the panic attacks. The more you’ve put on that shelf, the shakier that shelf is becoming. At some point, you’re going to have to open up those boxes, one by one, and deal with what’s inside. Until you do, you’re likely going to have continuing anxiety challenges.”
“Like a fight I know is coming but I’m not ready for?”
“Exactly. And it’s not all bleak. Like I said earlier, you’ve made great progress, even if you don’t see it. You’ve built a true support network around you, with Sam at the center. You’ve built a new family, and a new life, with a new purpose. But I’m concerned you won’t get to experience the full benefit of all of those wonderful things if you don’t also deal with the unfortunate things in those boxes. And I hope it goes without saying, but I’d like to be someone who can help you do that.”
What she said made sense. “I…I would appreciate the help…I think. But how will I know I’m ready to deal with them?”
She paused, considering carefully how to answer. “Sometimes we have the opportunity to proactively open one up, as it were, and peek inside. For others, they pop open when we least expect it.”
“Then we deal with the fall out,” I said.
“Exactly.”
“Sounds wonderful,” I said with a deep sigh. “Something to look forward to.”
Dr. Margolis grinned for the first time ever.
Yay, me.
Sam was positively giddy when Ben and I arrived home that evening.
“We’re all packed. The truck is loaded with everything but our small bags and backpacks. All gassed up and ready to go,” he said, hugging me and swinging me around in the driveway.
I laughed. Ben rolled his eyes and went inside.
“Tell me you’re excited, too,” said Sam, hands holding my waist, blue eyes shining.
“I am excited, too. I really am. And I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit of a…wet blanket. I honestly can’t wait to get on the road and get on with life…with you.”
He kissed me gently, a rough hand on my cheek. “I love you. I’m so glad I get to do this with you.”
“Me, too.” Score points for Margie.
“Now tell me how things went with Dr. Margolis,” said Sam, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the house.
Dinner was a hodgepodge of leftovers as Ben, Sam and I discussed our travel plans while Charles and Maggie packed the mountain of food she had prepared for us. Which immediately presented a problem.
“What do you mean, you aren’t driving straight there?” asked Margie, placing another casserole dish into one of several large styrofoam coolers on the floor by the sink. “This food needs to be kept cool. Charles has several bags of ice in the deep freezer. And whatever you don’t eat in the first few days needs to be frozen.”
Sam looked at me and I shrugged. Sam looked at Ben with question marks in his eyes?
“What?” said Ben.
“Well?” said Sam.
“Well, what?”
“Well, what are we going to do about getting all this amazing food to St. Louis?”
Ben looked at me. I shrugged again.
With a heavy sigh, Ben reached for his cell phone.
In the end it was decided that one of the agents Ben was transferring to St. Louis to guard the house would drive the food and make sure it was stored in a deep freezer that apparently had already been purchased.
Ben and another agent, also transferring to St. Louis, would drive in a separate vehicle behind us on our road trip. Sam and I would be alone in his truck. I was grateful for the concession from Ben. I also appreciated that he was ever vigilant and determined to keep us safe.
At stupid-o’clock the next morning, Ben drove a bleary-eyed Sam and me to a large, totally empty parking lot fronting a moth-balled, decrepit warehouse building in the nearest industrial park. Grass and weeds fought a hard-scrabble life, creeping up through many cracks and fissures in the pavement. Scattered around the lot were many orange cones, and two more black SUVs waiting.
For the next two hours, Ben did his best to teach us defensive driving techniques and how to recognize and shake a tail, should we ever find ourselves cut off from security. At first I wasn’t comfortable even driving the big SUV, but by the time we finished, I made it through the course twice without knocking over any cones. Sam aced it on his first go.
Ben asked Sam to drive us home, me up front with him, and Ben in the back. The other two SUV drivers stayed behind to pick up the cones. About five minutes into the drive, Sam looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Uh…Ben? I think we have a problem.”
Ben sat up straight and leaned forward. “Talk to me.”
“Three cars back, there’s a blue pickup. I think it might be following us.”
“Okay,” said Ben. “What’s your play?”
“Make random turns and see if he follows.”
Nodding, Ben said, “Do it.”
Four turns later, the blue truck was still behind us, having moved up just behind a yellow Volkswagen Beetle driven by an elderly grandmother-type bopping away to her radio, all smiles under her gigantic white-rimmed sunglasses.
“Alright, Sam,” said Ben. “You know what to do. Be careful, but accelerate and start moving toward 470. You want better visibility and more room to maneuver.”
A minute later we whizzed past a Chick-fil-A and a Chili’s that had seen better days, then went flying up the ramp to I-470. Sam accelerated and I turned around to see the same Blue pickup truck now four cars back. Sam smoothly passed in and out of traffic, putting more cars between us and our pursuers, just like Ben had taught us. I caught myself anticipating his every move, realizing that in a pinch, I could do the same.
To my right, I noticed a golf course. On the other side, barren plains. Sam moved to the left lane and accelerated again, now doing over 80 mph. The blue truck was now one car behind us and gaining. I unconsciously grabbed tighter to my seatbelt.
“See it, Sam?” asked Ben.
“Yep, I see it.”
“See what?” I asked, surprised by how calm my voice sounded.
“Watch,” said Sam.
At the last second, he swerved hard to the right, flying in front of a line of cars and careening down the off ramp. At the bottom, he made a right turn, ignoring the red light, and a quarter mile down the road, pulled into a Safeway parking lot. He parked in the closest spot he could find near the main doors.
“Let’s go, Jack,” he said, opening his door.
“Hold up, Sam,” said Ben.
“But I thought…”
“You thought right. In fact, you did everything right. Well done. Proud of you,” said Ben, patting his shoulder from behind. Sam sat a bit taller in the driver seat and pulled his door closed.
“Aren’t we supposed to try to hide in a crowd if we can?” I asked, having finally caught up to our lessons earlier.
“Yes,” said Ben. “Good. You were paying attention.” I rolled my eyes.
“So why did you stop us?”
“Because the blue truck was not able to make the same move that Sam made. That line of cars you skirted in front of blocked him until he’d missed the off ramp. He would have to take the next one and circle back, and would likely never find you. In this case, just sitting in plain sight would probably be fine. This is when you would call for backup. Also, the blue truck was a test. I had them follow us. Well done spotting them, Sam,” said Ben, patting his shoulder.
I sat back and grabbed Sam’s hand, breathing slowly to bleed off some of the adrenaline rush. It was only a test. One Sam passed with flying colors. Yay, us.
“It’s always better to have a real-life experience to cement the lessons into your brain,” said Ben.
“I think I’ve had enough of real-life for one day,” I said.
Sam squeezed my hand and drove us home.
By ten o’clock, we were saying our goodbyes to Maggie and Charles. Maggie kissed us both on the cheek and wiped her eyes on the edge of her apron.
“Be good, now. Stay out of trouble. Work hard at your studies. And if you need anything you call us. We’re here for you,” she said, trying to put on a smile and failing.
Sam shook Charles hand and I nodded to him.
“Have a safe trip,” he said.
“Don’t forget, Sam. You have to cook the red sauce low and slow, or it’ll burn,” said Maggie.
Sam placed our remaining bags and backpacks on the floor behind the driver’s seat, while I climbed in the passenger side. Everything else was under the truck bed cover. Glancing back I noticed a cooler and bag of snack stuff.
“Someone thinks of everything,” I said, grinning. Sam in charge was the best idea I’d ever had.
He slipped behind the wheel and squeezed my hand. “I have you,” he said. “Everything else is just extra.” I kissed him and we were off, Ben and his man following.
Sam had planned our first stop at Pikes Peak, or America’s Mountain as he called it. He’d been after me to see it for weeks. So we headed south on I-25, pop music on the radio, hands interlocked, wearing sunglasses and grins a mile-wide. As Denver faded behind us, I settled into what I hoped would be a relaxing and restorative journey. Best part was, I didn’t have to do anything but ride along.
An hour later we were approaching Colorado Springs.
“Can you drive all the way up?” I asked.
“You can, but that’s not for us,” said Sam.
“Please don’t tell me we’re hiking all the way up.”
He laughed. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you, though that might be fun. Nope, I’ve got a surprise for you.”
“Ooo, what is it?”
“I’m not telling you. That’s the surprise part.”
I sighed. “Fine. I hope it’s a good one.”
He just squeezed my hand and smiled.
Ten minutes later he exited the interstate and drove west on Route 24 toward the mountains. Like Denver, Colorado Springs nestled into the east-facing edge of the Rockies. As we drove up, the flat plains and developed areas gave way to red rocks and thick pine groves interspersed with patches of scrubland. And then we were in Manitou Springs, with a main drag bordered by motels, strip malls, souvenir shops, and restaurants.
Sam turned right on a side street and pulled into a partially full parking lot. He found two open spots near the back and Ben pulled in next to us. I saw him chat for a few seconds to the blond man beside him, who nodded and stayed put. Ben slid out of the SUV and joined Sam and I.
“Where are we, exactly?” I asked.
“Manitou Springs. Next stop, Pikes Peak,” said Sam.
“And how are we getting there?” asked Ben.
“Choo choo. Come on, follow me,” he said, clearly relishing his large-and-in-charge role. I smiled.
Sam suddenly spun in his tracks and trotted back a few steps to where I still stood.
“Almost forgot. We’re gonna need jackets up there.”
“Why? It’s like eighty-five degrees.”
Pointing with a grin, he said, “And up there…it’ll be thirty degrees cooler. Come on, we have a train to catch.”
We each retrieved a jacket from our respective rides. I looked up at the mountain in the distance. It was really up there. At least I didn’t have to walk.
Across the street, there were two covered bus stops. A big purple bus idled at the curb.
“Hurry up, guys. That’s our ride,” said Sam, who picked up his pace. I heard Ben grunt behind me as we chased Sam.
Once on board, we found seats together near the back. Sam grabbed my hand and pulled it in his lap. I let him keep it.
We didn’t speak as the bus traveled further up the main drag. We passed establishments like the Manitou Emporium, the Beef Jerky Experience, Norbu’s Himalayan Hut, and Mushroom Monday’s Gift shop. Quite the eclectic selection of places to spend your money. The bus drove around a circle in the center of town and headed further up on Ruxton. We were now in a more residential area, leaving behind the commercial chaos.
Rounding a corner, the bus pulled into a lot across from what looked like a train station of sorts. The sign read “The Broadmoor Manitou and Pikes Peak Cog Railway.” As we exited, I poked Ben’s arm.
“What’s his name?”
“Whose?”
“The guy with you. I’ve seen him at the house a few times, but not often.”
“Brandon. He’ll be one of the guys keeping an eye on you two in St. Louis. You could always introduce yourself.”
He took off before I could lodge a protest, not that I had a reason for one. It’s just that I sort of liked the anonymity and distance we had from most of the security Ben put in place. They were meant to blend in, or so he said. I always thought getting friendly seemed like a good way to get on Ben’s bad side. Guess I was wrong. I had to run to catch up.
Behind the station, a boxy, very red train waited…along with over a hundred other people. Sam seemed undeterred, and we made our way to the boarding area.
“Are we really riding this thing all the way up there?” I asked, pointing to the top of Pikes Peak in the distance, devoid of trees and thankfully snow.
“Yep,” said Sam. “Takes a little over an hour. The views should be spectacular today.”
I looked at Ben and he just shrugged. Okay, then.
We boarded with the masses, assigned to three seats together on one side of the train. With a blow of a whistle, the train slowly began the trek up to the peak.
Squeezed between Sam on the window and Ben on the aisle – he insisted – I watched the flora and fauna slip by through the wide windows. Sam was right – it was spectacular, and we hadn’t even really started climbing yet.
That soon changed, and we moved through several different habitats. The grassy foothills led
to the denser pine forests of fir and aspen trees. Elk grazed in plain sight, ignoring the train. The usual woodland creatures abounded.
“See that?” said Sam, pointing into the trees.
“What?”
“There, on that rock.”
“Oh, wow.”
“Mountain lion, I think.”
“Nice, Kitty,” I said. Sam smiled and kept watching out the window.
In short order, the pine trees gave way to a barren tundra. Rolling hills of tufted grass and rocks protruding everywhere. I shivered and Sam put his arm around me, pulling me closer.
That’s when we saw the bighorn herd the conductor had mentioned back at the depot. The sheep were grazing on the hillside above the tracks. The horns really were massive and majestic.
“Thank you,” I whispered to Sam.
“You’re welcome,” he said, squeezing my hand.
At the summit, we were surrounded by nothing but rocks. It looked like a nuclear bomb had leveled an entire city or something, leaving only rubble. It was surprisingly flat for a mountain top.
And incredibly windy. I pulled on my jacket, as did Sam.
Fourteen thousand plus feet above sea level. More than twice as high as where we lived. Breathing was a tad harder, but not too bad. I can only imagine how I’d be struggling if coming straight from Chicago — or St. Louis.
“You think you can maybe not fall down the mountain while I use the restroom?” asked Ben. I rolled my eyes.
“I’ve got him,” said Sam, just as his stomach grumbled loudly. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast several hours ago.
“One word, Sam,” said Ben. “Donuts.” He pointed to the Summit House, a large, very modern building nestled into the rocks.
“Let’s go,” said Sam, and I followed him inside.
The visitor center wasn’t too crowded, thankfully. We stood in line and Sam ordered a half dozen assorted donuts. According to a brochure, these donuts were made from a special, secret recipe over a hundred years old, and could only be made on Pikes Peak. The recipe supposedly wouldn’t work at lower elevations.
They exceeded expectations. Ben and Sam practically inhaled their two, and when I declined to eat my second one, they literally arm wrestled for it. Of course I was rooting for Sam, but Ben triumphed. He then tore the donut in two and gave half to a goofy-grinning Sam.
Satiated for the moment, Sam invited me outside for a stroll around the peak. Being mostly flat, there were wooden walkways circling the summit, large plaques brimming with interesting historical information scattered here and there. The sun was warm, the air was cool, the wind was brisk, and Sam’s hand holding mine was pure bliss. I ignored the other visitors, determined to enjoy just being in Sam’s space.
“Are you excited about going back to school?” Sam asked.
“Kinda.”
“Why kinda? Do you not want to?”
“No. I mean, no, that’s not what I mean. I guess…I guess I spent a big part of my life growing up thinking that if I could get a great education it would solve all my problems and I would have a way out of the life I grew up in. And I got one, but it didn’t really make a huge difference.”
“You were able to move away from home, though, right? Become independent.”
“Yes, and that was good. But also very hard. And lonely, if I’m honest. I don’t know, I wasn’t unhappy with my life, but now, after everything that’s happened this year, I’m not looking at an MBA to make my life complete. Or whatever. Does that make sense?”
Sam smiled and pulled me into a hug. “Makes perfect sense. You don’t need anything else when you’re already all you need to be.”
“I love you,” I whispered into his chest, the zipper on his jacket pressing into my cheek. He squeezed me again and pulled back, prodding us back into a slow walk.
“I guess that’s where I am at at this point — I don’t need to get a graduate degree, but I don’t think it’s a bad or worthless thing to do. I’d really like to better understand what Todd and Simon and Danny are all talking about. And according to Simon, I’ve got a head for consulting, so there’s that.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Enjoy what?”
“Working for your company. Doing what you do.”
“Most days I’m not really sure what I’m doing, if anything.”
Sam stopped and pulled me close again, lifting my chin to look into his intensely blue eyes. “Little man, we’ve really got to work on this self-esteem thing. Simon told me if it wasn’t for you, he would probably be doing something else entirely. Same for Todd. They went after this big challenge, starting the company and all the risks that came with it, because they wanted to work with you.”
“That’s what I don’t understand. Why me? Because it’s my name on the trust fund, and that’s the money that makes it all possible? That was really Amanda and Phillip, not me.”
Sam grabbed my shoulders, his eyes penetrating. “It’s not about the money, Jack. It never was. All of these guys could go find a job at any of a dozen huge firms and make a great living. But they wanted more than that. They wanted to work with you. Not your money…you!”
“But…”
He held up a finger to my lips. “No buts, just listen. And let this penetrate, okay? I love you for who you are, Jack Schaeffer. Yes, you’re cute and sexy as hell. You make me laugh and I love every minute of my life since you invaded it. I love all that we’ve done, and all we’re going to do together in the future. But most all, I love your heart. I love your endless capacity to care, to empathize, to want desperately to help people who need it. And to be a part of that? To stand alongside you as you lead us – hell, yes, these people want to follow you.”
I hugged him harder and tried my best to let those words sink in.
I was so relaxed I fell asleep on Sam’s shoulder on the ride back down the mountain. Back at the parking lot, Sam said we had a couple of hours to kill and suggested we explore the tourist shops in town. I’m pretty sure Ben rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. Sam and I shed our jackets and ate an apple each that he pulled from the cooler. I glanced over to the other SUV. It looked like Ben and Brandon were arguing as to who would be shadowing us this time.
“I don’t think your plan is meeting with much excitement over there,” I said with a grin.
“Come on, let’s do this. It’ll be fun,” said Sam. “They’ll figure themselves out.”
And it was fun. We laughed a ton, poking fun at the kitschy touristy souvenirs as we moved from shop to shop. I was still a little hungry, since I’d only had a donut for lunch, so I snacked my way through samples at one store selling crazy flavors of salsas, mustards, olive oils, and cheese spreads. Yummy.
In another store, Sam grabbed a basket and before I knew it, he had playing cards, a travel checkers set, and some kind of mind-teaser puzzle thing-a-ma-jig made out of wire and wood. Brandon, looking more our age than Ben’s, followed us from a distance, hiding behind his sunglasses, standing rigid just inside the door of any shop we entered. He stood out like a sore thumb and looked very uncomfortable. So much for blending in. He might as well have a walkie talkie complete with wired earbuds.
I was nibbling on my last little snack bag of pretzels and honey mustard sauce when Sam grabbed my arm and pointed across the street at “Goldminers Nuts and Candy Shoppe”. It was actually a veritable goldmine of deliciousness. Sam was exactly like the proverbial kid in a candy store and I laughed so much I almost cried. He filled a basket with nostalgic candies, asking me what I liked. I added a few things, including a box of chocolate covered macadamia nuts, Sam’s favorite. I don’t think he’d had any since we left Hawaii. He saw them and smiled, leaning his forehead against mine.
“I love you, little man.”
“Forever,” I replied.
Our last stop was the “Christmas in Manitou” shop, where Sam led me around, oohing and ahhing over the many decorated Christmas trees covered with unique ornaments.
“Come on, Jack. We have to pick out the best one.”
“Sam, it’s August. We don’t even have a tree.”
“But we will, right?”
“Well…yeah, I suppose so.”
“So we need to get an ornament to commemorate our trip. In fact, you know what? We should start a family tradition, right here, right now. Every trip we take together, we try to remember to get an ornament or something to hang on our Christmas tree to remember our travels. What do you think?”
My eyes were suddenly wet. Family traditions — with me? I nodded, unable to speak for the lump in my throat.
Sam continued browsing and I slipped away to collect myself, overwhelmed at how deeply Sam’s desire for family traditions hit me. I’d known almost from day one that family was supremely important to Sam. We’d talked many times about how we were building our own kind of family. But something about a tree and ornaments – it just solidified the idea of “us” in my heart. Our family — together.
Wiping my eyes with the bottom of my shirt, I noticed Brandon by the door checking his watch. Poor guy. Definitely got the short straw this time. I went in search of Sam to wrap things up.
I found him deep in thought, weighing two ornaments in his hands. One featured the town name of Manitou Springs, with a miniature Pikes Peak behind the words. The other was a black bear cub made of glass. Very cute.
We bought both. Because we could, and it was now our family tradition. Sam went to pay and I perused a rack of postcards.
Brandon, who had remained glued to the front door, suddenly approached, clearly alarmed, and grabbed my elbow, leaning in to whisper.
“We need to move…now.” He began pulling on my arm, and I shook his hand loose.
“I’m not leaving without Sam.”
“I’m right here,” he said, scooting next to me. “What’s up?”
“Let’s go,” said Brandon, turning and moving toward the shop door. I shrugged at Sam and followed. Mostly so I wouldn’t hear about it from Ben later.
Outside, Ben joined us on the wooden sidewalk fronting the busy street. Taking one look at Brandon, he made a funny face.
“What did you see?” he asked Brandon.
“Young guy, late teens, early twenties. Jeans, black t-shirt, white sneakers, gray baseball cap. Followed us to the last three shops.”
“Still in there?” asked Ben. Brandon nodded.
“Move down the sidewalk and wait for me,” said Ben, pushing through the store’s double doors.
Less than three minutes later, Ben led a visibly shaken young man toward us matching Brandon’s description. I immediately felt sorry for him, though I didn’t know why.
“Guys, this is Steven. He has something he’d like to talk to you about,” said Ben, jerking his head toward Brandon to move away and give the three of us some privacy. Brandon gave him a look and followed.
Sam reached out a hand to a still shaking Steven. “Hi, I’m Sam,” he said. “This is Jack. What can we help you with?”
Not expecting that reaction, clearly. He slowly reached out to shake Sam’s hand, then mine. He looked down the walk where Ben and Brandon were having a heated discussion. Uh oh.
“Um,” said Steven. “Uh…I just wanted to apologize, I guess, for following you. I didn’t mean any harm, I promise. I was just…curious, I guess.”
“About what?” I asked, immediately sensing he needed some kind of support, not accusations.
His face and neck turned deep red, and he looked down at our feet.
“It’s okay,” said Sam. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He sighed and looked up again. “It’s just…I saw you earlier, and I just sort of knew you were together. You know, like a couple?”
Sam nodded and grabbed my hand, confirming Steven’s suspicions. “Is that going to be a problem?” he asked, gently.
Steven shook his head. “No, no. I…uh…I saw you guys and was curious what it would be like to…” he trailed off. We waited.
“It’s just…I’m pretty sure I’m into guys, and I’m trying to make sense of it all. I’ve never been around anyone else gay, and I mean, I’ve seen gay couples in movies and TV, but never in real life. I think I’m the only one in my school, and I’m not really out. I have one friend who knows. She’s the one who helped me figure stuff out. And then…there you were. I didn’t mean to make it weird, I just…enjoyed watching you together. It made me feel…good inside.”
My heart broke a bit for the kid. Without thinking, I pulled him into a hug and he didn’t fight me. I think we were both fighting back tears now. Then Sam wrapped his big strong arms around both of us and squeezed until I squealed.
“Listen,” I said, as we separated. “I get it. Been there, all the confusion, the fear, the doubts, never feeling like you fit in, always on the outside looking in.”
Steven just nodded.
“Hey,” said Sam. “It does get better. I promise. But don’t rush things, okay? It might take a while, but when you find the right guy, you’ll know.”
Steven brightened a bit. “How long have you guys been together?”
“About six months. It was pretty much love at first sight. That’s a thing, for real,” said Sam.
“Wow. And you just knew?” he asked, looking at me.
“I did. I didn’t know what to do about any of it, but Sam was patient with me, and now we’re together.”
“Forever,” said Sam, beaming at me. “We just bought our first Christmas tree ornaments. Wanna see?”
I smiled as Sam and Steven chatted about ornaments and holiday traditions for a couple of minutes. Looking down the sidewalk, Ben was still talking to Brandon. He looked up and waved for us to re-join them.
“Looks like we’re ready to go,” I said.
“Who are those guys?” asked Steven.
“Friends. They keep an eye out for us, kinda like big brothers,” said Sam. Seemed like a reasonable explanation to me.
“Cool. Are they like, together, too?”
Sam laughed. “Nope.”
“The big one is a tad scary,” said Steven.
“Ben gets into beast mode if he thinks we’re in any kind of danger,” I said, leaning in. “But between us, he’s a big teddy bear underneath the fierce exterior.”
Steven looked over at Ben, who smiled back from a distance. “Hey…I know you need to go. But, and I hope this doesn’t sound too needy or whatever…but could I keep in touch with you guys somehow? Like…for questions or whatever?”
Sam looked at me and I nodded. Sam gave him his cell phone number.
“Thank you…for not…I don’t know, getting upset with me or something,” said Steven.
Sam put a hand on his shoulder. “All good. You take care of yourself, and remember what I said. Keep your wits about you, and take things slow. The more real friends you have around the better.”
“It was nice to meet you,” I said, not sure what else to say. Talking to Steven reminded me of where I had been just a short while ago and just how far I’d come. Mostly because of Sam. I hoped Steven would find his own “Sam” eventually.
Steven thanked us again and walked in the opposite direction, waving to what I suspected was the one he’d confessed his deepest secrets to. She put her arm around his shoulder the second he got close enough, pulling him in tightly. He’d be okay.
“Where to next?” asked Ben as we approached. Apparently we didn’t need to talk about what just happened, and I decided to leave it alone for now.
“Hotel, then dinner,” said Sam.
“Sounds good,” said Ben. “We’ll follow you.”
Sam held my hand as we walked back to the truck. I leaned into his side, relishing the warmth and closeness.
He carefully stowed our ornaments and other purchases in the back seat, then fired up the big engine.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you did back there,” I said, kissing his cheek.
“What?”
“Big protector, stepping in front of me when Steve approached.”
“I did? Was that wrong?”
“Not at all. I loved it. And I love you,” I said, leaning against his arm.
Sam grinned and slipped on his sunglasses. “Fasten your seat belt, Little Man. I’ve got big plans for you tonight.”