"Do you need help?"
I rolled my eyes at Sam's eagerness. "Sam, I'm pregnant, not handicapped."
He worried his lower lip. "But can't you like-you know-hurt the baby?"
I gave him a flat look. "If I was mountain climbing, maybe. Getting out of the car, however, seems a bit unlikely."
He sagged back against the driver's seat. "Sorry, I've never done this before. I just want everything to be perfect, you know?"
I smiled. "I know." I leaned across the console and kissed him quickly. "The doctor said I'm only about eight or nine weeks along, anyway. I'm not even showing yet."
His gaze flickered down to my stomach. "Yeah, okay."
We were at the diner with a scheduled meeting to talk with Cher, planning to drop the news and-fingers crossed-hope she took it well.
We both slid out of his car, Sam wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked into the restaurant. It wasn't that busy for late afternoon. Cher was easy to spot in her sparkly denim jacket and bright pink designer handbag. Sam muttered something under his breath about the outfit.
"Hi, Cher."
The woman in question glanced up at us away from the screen of her phone, a wide smile widening her lips. "Hey, guys!"
Sam slid into the both, pulling me down with him. I kept his hand in my lap, gripping it tightly with both of mine. "So, you're probably wondering why we called you here," I began.
She shrugged. "Did you have another tiff?"
I bit my lip. "Not exactly."
"Then what?"
I took a deep breath. Sam squeezed my hand in support. "I'm pregnant," I said to her. "About nine weeks along."
Her jaw unhinged, and for the next few moments she just whipped her head back and forth between us. I waited patiently for her to respond, not sure how it would happen. But when her eyes lit up and she let loose a squeal, I knew at least she was okay with it.
"Holy crap! My step-bro is going to be a daddy? This is so awesome! Hold on-that means I'm an aunt! Oh fucking yes! Someone else I can shop for!"
"I think she's excited," Sam whispered in my ear, and I bit my lip.
"I think so, too."
Cher reached over and patted Sam on the shoulder. "I knew you had it in you, bro. Way to knock a girl up."
I blushed and Sam groaned. "Honestly, Cher, your way with words is just so amazing."
"This is awesome!" she continued, completely ignoring Sam's sarcasm. She grabbed my free hand and clutched it tightly. "You're going to be a mother, Elsie."
Beneath the table Sam released one hand to cover my stomach with it. I smiled. "I know," I whispered.
"How do you feel about that?"
I turned to look at Sam, finding he was already staring at me. This close I could see the love and the excitement, the nervousness and the determination shining out of his eyes. I propped my head on his shoulder. "Strangely, I'm feeling really good about it."
"I bet. You seem like you would be a great mother."
Her words hit home, lifting me up. "You seem like you would be a great mother."
Maybe I really could do this after all.
"So what are you guys going to do? Have you bought anything yet?"
I shook my head. "It's kind of still sinking in."
Cher nodded, for once completely ignoring her phone when it buzzed against the table. "This is huge," she murmured. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Have you told Mom yet?"
My eyes widened, Sam stiffening beside me. I had only met Sam's mother a few times, and I had thought she was a decent woman. But it wasn't like they were in depth conversations, just passing greetings. I bet, if not for the whole fiasco involving my father and the media, she wouldn't even remember who I was.
"No," Sam finally stated, staring hard at the table. "She doesn't know."
Cher frowned. "You're-you're gonna tell her, right?"
"Maybe."
"Sam, it's her grandchild."
He said nothing.
"What about Dad?"
"He knows."
"He'll probably tell Mom, then."
Sam shook his head. "I told him I would."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
"Would you just stop it, Cher?" he blurted out, loud enough to have several heads turning in our direction. "I'll tell her when the time is right." He gently pulled himself out of my arms, sliding out of the booth. "I'm going to get a drink. You want anything?" he asked, looking at me.
I shook my head, confused by his actions. "No, thanks, I'm good."
He nodded and walked toward the bar. I had never, not once, seen Sam drink a lick of alcohol. It never really occurred to me that he was of legal age to drink any. But I watched him now, taking a sip of the beer slid across to him.
"He hasn't spoken to his mom in a while."
I turned back to Cher, brows furrowing. "Huh?"
Cher appeared just as worried for her step-brother. It didn't escape my attention she had yet to touch her phone. "They've had a pretty strained relationship for a few years, now."
I returned my gaze to Sam, his shoulders slumped and a haunted look in his eyes. "Do you know why?"
She shrugged. "Beats me."
Jeez. We were two seriously messed up people, weren't we? I grew up without a mother, and he had a big enough fight with his to have them not on speaking terms. My father went to prison, and his silently abused him.
Maybe we should consider couple therapy sessions. Lord knows we probably needed them.
At last Cher picked up her phone and peeked at the screen. She released an annoyed grunt from the back of her throat. "Hey, look, I gotta take this." She nodded toward Sam. "Talk to him, yeah? If you two are having a baby his mother deserves to know."
"Okay," I whispered. "Thanks, Cher."
She winked. "No problem, Elsie." She shrugged her purse higher up her shoulder and clicked out of the diner in her high heels. Sam didn't seem to notice she had left. I breathed out a long breath and sidled up to the bar, sitting myself down beside my boyfriend.
"I didn't know you drank," I spoke up.
"Every once in a while," he mumbled.
"I see." I traced shapes on the countertop with my finger. "Why haven't you spoken with your mother, Sam?"
He ran his fingers through his hair. "It's complicated, Elsie. She-let's just say we had a few disagreements that led to a few realizations."
I cocked an eyebrow. "I don't understand."
"She didn't believe me, when I came out with her about my dad's abuse toward me. Actually, what's worse is that I think she did but she refused to accept it. That kind of pissed me off."
I could definitely see how it would. It pissed me off, too. "How long has it been?"
He sighed. "Three, four years."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"But you could change that," I murmured, swiveling in the stool to face him. "Even if you don't want her involved or anything, she has a right to know about her grandchild."
He swallowed hard. "I know."
I smoothed my hand over his cheek, smiling when he leaned unabashedly into my touch. "You're a strong guy, Sam," I whispered. "Strong and loyal and wonderful, and that's how I know you'll make the right decision."
He cut the space between us and kissed my forehead. "Will you come with me?" he asked.
I grazed my thumb over the stubble along his chin. "Of course I will."
"You want to know something else, Elsie?"
I pulled back, tilting my head to the side. "What?"
"Cher's right. You'll make an amazing mother."
~*~
"This is where your mother lives now?"
I gaped up at the mansion before me-there was no other word suitable for it-with an extravagant garden and wraparound porch. Sam snickered in disgust beside me. "When you've been living in poor conditions most of your life, and a millionaire suddenly lands in your lap, some people let the money get to their head. My mother let the money get to her head."
"Hm." I focused my gaze back up at the house, a tad nervous. I rested my hand against my stomach. What if she got infuriated that her son knocked someone up? Would she be understanding or force me out of his life? Suddenly this didn't seem like the best idea.
"Hey," Sam voiced, breaking through my panicked thoughts. He snatched my hand out of my lap and interlaced our fingers. "Everything will be fine, alright?"
I licked my lips. "It's just-now that I think about it, what if she doesn't like me, Sam? I mean, we're going to have a baby together. It'll be so much easier if she likes me."
"Okay." He undid his seatbelt so he could shift sideways in the seat to face me. "Look, Elsie. You are the most incredible person I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You are strong, and stubborn, and smart, and beautiful, and a little smartass when you want to be. When she sees how determined we are to make this parenthood thing work, she'll understand."
Translation: but until then? Expect the mouths of hell to open up.
I nodded and stretched across the console, Sam meeting me half-way and capturing my lips in a tender, reassuring kiss.
"Let's go," I murmured. I felt him nod and we vacated the car. I waited until he was right beside me so I could lock my hand tightly in his as we strode up the long stone walkway to the immaculate front door. Sam rang the doorbell, and then we just waited. And waited. And waited.
To my great surprise, it was Mr. Richard Harding who opened the door.
"Thanks, Patty, we'll see you again tomorrow," he said to a housemaid walking out with her things. She waved at him over her shoulder and then he turned his attention on us. He did a double-take, mouth twisting into a bright smile. "Well, if it isn't the creators of my future first grandchild. What can I do for you?"
"Is Mom home?" Sam asked, voice hinting that he desperately hoped she wouldn't be.
Mr. Harding seemed shocked at his request. "Why, yes, she is. In the sitting room. Why?"
"We'd like to talk to her."
His step-father smiled, ushering us inside. Sam let me walk through first, releasing my hand to place his at the small of my back. The large door released a loud groaning creak as it shut behind us. "I think she would love that," Mr. Harding stated.
"We'll see," Sam muttered. I was very eager to see just how strained the mother-son relationship was.
Sam had clearly been to the house quite a few times, because he led me through the corridors and rooms like it was a second home. And I guessed it sort of was, considering his parents lived there and all. He stopped outside a door left slightly ajar, enough to hear soft music drifting through and the clinking of delicate china. Sam poked his head in. "Ma?"
"Oh, my goodness!" a feminine voice cried from inside. "Samuel, you scared the living daylights out of me!"
"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry at all.
I heard footsteps, and then the music stopped. "What are you doing here?"
"I need to talk to you about something."
"And that would be?"
Sam pushed the door open the rest of the way, revealing me. I mustered an awkward smile. "I think we should all have a seat, first."
Sam had to yank on my shirt to get me to enter that room. Mrs. Harding looked vaguely how I remembered her, just with a bit more grey streaked through the brown. She was clearly a beautiful woman, somehow maintaining her willowy figure and donning expensive, elegant clothes. Her eyes were green, I realized. And piercing. Not who Sam inherited his warm brown ones from.
She didn't say anything as she regarded me, either. I sat down on a couch beside Sam, stiffly, our hands knotted tightly together. She was perched on the edge of a chair, a tea cup in her hands. She was gazing intensely down her nose at me, and that didn't give me the best optimistic outlook in the world.
"Elsie Holliday," she finally said. "It's been a while."
Well, at least she remembered me. "Yes, ma'am."
"You've gotten taller. Your hair's longer."
I nodded slightly. My hair was longer? Was this how she beat around the bush before siccing me with the words that I was a disgrace and had to leave her premises immediately? If so, I didn't like her strategy. "Thank you."
Like he could sense my unease, Sam's thumb began rubbing gently over the back of my hand, and it did serve to soothe me a little bit. "Why is she here?" the woman stated, turning to her son this time.
"She's my girlfriend, Mom."
Mrs. Harding didn't look impressed with that news at all. "You're dating this girl?"
"Yes."
She sighed, setting down her cup and pinching the bridge of her nose. "Honestly, Sam, this was not how I expected our first conversation in four years to go."
It was Sam's turn to tighten his grip around my hand. "Well, what were you expecting?"
"I don't know . . . Not this. You can't possibly be dating the daughter of that-that monster."
"Her name is Elsie," he told her, "and what her dad did is in no way connected to who she is."
The cynical woman wasn't buying it. "It doesn't matter if she was shipped off to Switzerland to live her life. It all goes back to the same grounds, and in the end the apple never falls far from the tree."
Her words froze me solid.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
"You don't know anything about her," Sam spat, "so quit pretending like you do."
The apple never falls far from the tree.
"She consumed your thoughts eight years ago and I see that's one thing that hasn't changed," she returned.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
"Well she's going to be sticking around for a whole lot longer because she's pregnant!" he blurted out, and if the sudden silence on his part was any indication, it was a complete accident.
My hand went slack in his as Mrs. Harding fixed her judgmental scrutiny on me. I felt like she was picking me apart, diving right into my soul and trying her hardest to get inside my head.
She didn't waver, didn't blink, didn't move.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
"You're pregnant?" she finally asked in a small voice.
"Yes," I replied, way calmer and more certain than I felt.
And that's when she lost it.
"I knew it!" she shot to her feet, quickly going red in the face. "I knew it all along. The daughter of a bastard, is what you are. A filthy whore! How long did it take to coax my son between your legs, huh? To figure out it would give you the rights to all his money?"
"Mom, shut the hell up!" Sam roared, pushing of the couch to confront her. "Just because you're stuck in the past like everybody else doesn't mean you know a damn thing about what happened!"
"I do know!" she shrieked. She pointed a crooked, accusatory finger my way. "That whore's father killed my first husband!"
Dead silence.
Or rather, there was dead silence in my head.
I was aware that Sam and his mother were still chewing each other out, but I couldn't hear any of it. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, too. Their actions, my thoughts . . .
Killed my first husband.
I clamped my hands over my ears, wanting to muffle the words, but they only amplified.
That whore's father killed my first husband.
I was whimpering. I knew that. So close to crying. Neither Sam nor his mother noticed me. Noticed how quickly I was shattering apart right there, two feet away.
Killed my first husband.
The apple never falls from the tree.
And I snapped.
"Stop it!" I screamed, so loud my head rattled and Mrs. Harding jumped backward. I was on my feet, breathing hard. Sam realized then that something was seriously wrong with me.
"Elsie," he began, but I cut him off.
"I'm sorry," I gasped, looking at them both. "I-I'm so sorry. Everything about me is a curse."
Sam took a step toward me, but I retreated, shaking my head furiously.
"Don't come near me," I demanded brokenly, the tears spilling over my cheeks. "Just-just stay away."
And with that said I bolted straight from the room.
Sam called for me, but I wasn't listening. Mrs. Harding's words were still bright and clear in my head, along with the images they portrayed and the logic that paired right along with it.
God, how could I have not known?
I had no idea where I was going, but eventually I found a door and I burst through it, right into the rain that hadn't been falling when we'd arrived. Imagine that.
I had no destination in mind. I just had to get as far away from him as possible. As far away from Sam as possible.
Killed my first husband.
I tripped over a root in the ground. Where the hell was I? I must have run out into her garden, because the road was nowhere in sight, and I was in some weird hedge maze thing.
The apple never falls far from the tree.
She was right. In the end, I would be like him, wouldn't I? When I was little he was always telling me how much more similar I was to him than my mother, the mother I never knew. I always thought that was a great thing, because as a small girl I thought he was superman.
It never occurred to me I could be wrong.
I was drenched; soaked. It fleetingly crossed my mind that exposing myself to these conditions with nothing more than jeans and a long-sleeved shirt and running like the fires of hell were on my heels couldn't be good for the baby. But I was fast losing it, losing my mind and myself, and I couldn't seem to stop.
It felt like everything I knew, everything I believed, was one big lie. That maybe I really didn't know as much as I thought I did about what went on eight years ago.
What was still going on.
"Elsie!"
His voice encouraged me on faster. He couldn't catch up. He was stuck with me and it was probably his worst nightmare. I was a shit-magnet for the universe. How could being with me be a good thing?
Maybe I was just meant to be alone.
I turned a corner, crying out in frustration when I was stumbled to a dead-end.
"Elsie."
I whipped around, the mixture of rain and tears making my eyes blurry. The wind cut unforgivingly through my quaking body. "Get away from me, Sam!"
He shook his head, walking toward me. "No."
"I mean it!" I sobbed. "All I do is screw up people's lives and I'm so sick and tired of it!"
He took another step toward me.
"Stop!" I begged desperately. "Just turn around and leave me behind, Sam. I-I can manage without you. You need to leave before you get hurt."
He tilted his head to the side, chancing a few more steps toward me. "What makes you think that?"
I sniffed. "Because everybody I love always gets hurt."
"Then that's a chance I'll have to take."
"Go away!" I shrieked. "Please! Just-just leave, right now, and forget about me!"
My knees buckled with the fatigue and emotions ravaging my body. Sam cut the distance and caught me, slowly lowering me to the ground with him. I buried my face in his neck, crying hard. "That's impossible," he murmured, arms coming around me and clutching me to him tightly. "If only you knew how impossible that is, Elsie."
"Please, Sam," I croaked. "Cut your losses and find someone else. Someone who isn't me."
His hand gripped the hair at my neck, nothing uncomfortable or painful. Just because he needed to grasp a part of me. "But what I want is you, Elsie," he whispered, voice all I could hear above the pounding rain. "Since I found you all alone crying outside in the middle of winter. And I didn't care how long it would take, I just knew you would be mine."
"Sam," I rasped, wrapping my arms around his neck, giving in to the comfort and reassurance his body offered me.
"I'm waiting for it to sink in," he continued, "that I'm not going anywhere. We're raising this child together, angel, no matter what anybody else says. "
I said nothing, too emotionally and physically drained. He rocked me back and forth for a few more moments, and then scooped me up and cradled me closely against his chest, walking me out of the maze I had found myself n.
"Oh, thank goodness." I heard Mr. Harding's relieved voice through the sleepy haze of my mind. "Is she alright?"
"Tired, spent and pregnant," Sam replied. "She's as alright as she can be."
"Well, why don't you both get into some dry clothes and then head on out? You could catch a cold and we don't need Elsie doing that."
Sam nodded and carried me back into the house. My eyes were shut so I wasn't sure where we went, just that we climbed some stairs. A door creaked open and then closed.
"Elsie," he murmured. "Elsie, sweetheart, I need you to change into some dry clothes."
Reluctantly I let him lower me to the ground. He pulled open a drawer and started rifling through it. "Is this your room?" I mumbled blearily.
He nodded. "When I used to live here."
"Oh."
"I don't have any girl clothes, and Cher took all her stuff. Is that okay?"
I nodded. I was far passed caring.
We changed into the warm, dry clothes. His shirt fell near to my knees and I had to roll the sweatpants up a few times, but they smelled like Sam and I wasn't going to complain.
I more or less stumbled down the stairs after him. I wanted to head out and go back home, but a certain woman was waiting for us at the bottom.
And she didn't look any more welcoming of my presence in her house than when I had first arrived.
"She's staying, Mom," Sam stated with finality. "Whether you like it or not."
And with that said he grabbed the umbrella his step-dad held out to him and led me back out to the car.
~*~
My gas tank was passed empty when we finally staggered into the apartment. It didn't escape my attention, either, that going to his mother's house had been well out of our way and it was the wee hours of morning. As in, two o'clock in the morning.
I was dead on my feet.
"I'm so sorry about that, Elsie," Sam apologized, confronting me in the living room. I shrugged.
"Can't say I wasn't ready for it," I mumbled. "I'm pretty sure not a lot of mothers would approve of me."
"Shut up." He pulled me towards him. "That's just because they wouldn't give themselves the chance to get to know you. It would be their loss."
I peered up into his eyes, wondering how I could have ever gotten so lucky. And because I couldn't find any words to explain just how he made me feel, I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. He was soft and slow, but I didn't need soft and slow. I nipped at his lip, urging his mouth open, needing to taste him and feel him against me.
The one person on this earth I could not live without.
"Sam," I whispered heatedly into the kiss, running my hands down his chest. He gripped my waist beneath the shirt, thumbs skimming gently over my stomach. I arched my back into him, bringing him closer, making him groan.
"God, you're so beautiful," he panted, pulling away to trail kisses down my neck. I tilted my head back, giving him more access. I could feel my skin burning with his words, and I felt him smirk against my neck as he realized it, too.
He yanked the sleeve of my shirt away, tearing it slightly, biting down gently on the skin over my shoulder. The action sent shockwaves of awareness through me. "I think there's something we need to talk about," I breathed, and it was a small triumph I was able to get that out coherently.
"It can wait," Sam insisted, tongue flickering over the love bite. I fumbled with the snap on his jeans.
"It's important," I continued weakly, without much conviction.
"Later," he stated, and brought his mouth back down on mine. He urged me backwards, using his tongue, his lips and his breath to ease my fears and let me know everything was going to be okay somehow or another.
He kicked open the door to my room, unceremoniously pulling back to look at me.
"If we-it won't hurt the baby, will it?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Good."
And I let him take the rest of the night to heal my broken soul.