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The phone buzzed next to her bed and she stretched, reaching for it and trying to wake up.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Grayson?”
“Yes?”
“This is Earl Hackett. I’m…I’m the landlord over at Piney Springs. You co-signed on a lease for Sebastian Miller?”
She sat up in the bed and felt a headache coming on.
“Yes, unfortunately, that’s true. How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve been unable to reach Mr. Miller and he still owes a great deal of money for the damage to the unit. Could you meet me over here, possibly today? I haven’t been able to repair the damage. I’d like you to see it and unless you can help me locate Mr. Miller, I’m going to need you to pay for the damages. Again, I’m sorry.”
She rubbed her temple.
“No, I understand. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Ms. Grayson. Meet me in the office and we’ll walk to the unit together.”
She hung up and flung her feet off the side of the bed. She showered and thought about all the mistakes she’d made since meeting Sebastian Miller.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Grayson?”
“Yes?”
“This is Earl Hackett. I’m…I’m the landlord over at Piney Springs. You co-signed on a lease for Sebastian Miller?”
She sat up in the bed and felt a headache coming on.
“Yes, unfortunately, that’s true. How can I help you?”
“I’m sorry to tell you that I’ve been unable to reach Mr. Miller and he still owes a great deal of money for the damage to the unit. Could you meet me over here, possibly today? I haven’t been able to repair the damage. I’d like you to see it and unless you can help me locate Mr. Miller, I’m going to need you to pay for the damages. Again, I’m sorry.”
She rubbed her temple.
“No, I understand. Give me an hour and I’ll be there.”
“Thank you, Ms. Grayson. Meet me in the office and we’ll walk to the unit together.”
She hung up and flung her feet off the side of the bed. She showered and thought about all the mistakes she’d made since meeting Sebastian Miller.
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Oh, he was handsome and charming, all right. That’s what she noticed the moment they met. Dark brown, wavy hair, perfectly coiffed at all times. Those startling blue-green eyes that could make a rainy day seem sunny. He’d smile at her and she’d forgive him, no matter the grievance. He could be so romantic, too. He’d swept her off her feet more than once, but somehow she was always the one holding the bill at the end of the night. And the first time he took her to bed? Earth-shaking, like nothing she’d ever known in her life. After that, he could just stroke her face or her bare shoulders or take her hand in that gentle way and she’d be his and he always satisfied her. How strange that after giving so much of herself, she felt so empty inside, though.
He said all the right things to her, except for any words that might suggest commitment. He just wasn’t that “kind of guy,” he’d tell her again and again. She’d protest and he’d smile and touch her face. She would weaken and give in.
She finished getting ready and headed over to meet Mr. Hackett. She hadn’t been to the apartment since Sebastian left. He always thought of himself as some kind of handy man. He was terrible at it, though. The evidence was clear. The place was a wreck. There were holes in the walls, where it appeared he tried to hang shelves or pictures or whatever. The vent over the stove was missing and there was a gaping hole in its place. She assumed he was attempting to install a microwave over the top. The floor in the kitchen and bathrooms was torn up. The walls were painted various colors, like someone who was trying to decide which color to use and never finished. He’d left all his furniture and she paused when she saw the crumpled bed sheets. She could see him sitting there, biting his lip, beckoning her to join him.
“Ms. Grayson?”
She shook her head, “Sorry, did you say something, Mr. Hackett?”
“I was just saying that the total cost for all the repairs is $853. I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
She looked around the room and walking back into the living room, she nodded, “Seems too low, Mr. Hackett. Why don’t you tweak those numbers and make it an even thousand and I’ll see what I can do with Mr. Miller?”
“Oh, you know where he is?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” she grimaced, “but my guess is that he doesn’t realize that I know.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder, “All right, then. If you want, I can contact him myself.”
“No…no, I think it would be better for me to deal with him. I’ll get you the money within the week, no matter what.”
They headed back to the office. Mr. Hackett pulled up the bill, made some adjustments and printed off a copy for her. He put it in an envelope and held it up to her. She took it, smiled, turned on her heel and was out the door.
He said all the right things to her, except for any words that might suggest commitment. He just wasn’t that “kind of guy,” he’d tell her again and again. She’d protest and he’d smile and touch her face. She would weaken and give in.
She finished getting ready and headed over to meet Mr. Hackett. She hadn’t been to the apartment since Sebastian left. He always thought of himself as some kind of handy man. He was terrible at it, though. The evidence was clear. The place was a wreck. There were holes in the walls, where it appeared he tried to hang shelves or pictures or whatever. The vent over the stove was missing and there was a gaping hole in its place. She assumed he was attempting to install a microwave over the top. The floor in the kitchen and bathrooms was torn up. The walls were painted various colors, like someone who was trying to decide which color to use and never finished. He’d left all his furniture and she paused when she saw the crumpled bed sheets. She could see him sitting there, biting his lip, beckoning her to join him.
“Ms. Grayson?”
She shook her head, “Sorry, did you say something, Mr. Hackett?”
“I was just saying that the total cost for all the repairs is $853. I’m sorry. That’s the best I can do.”
She looked around the room and walking back into the living room, she nodded, “Seems too low, Mr. Hackett. Why don’t you tweak those numbers and make it an even thousand and I’ll see what I can do with Mr. Miller?”
“Oh, you know where he is?”
“I have a pretty good idea,” she grimaced, “but my guess is that he doesn’t realize that I know.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder, “All right, then. If you want, I can contact him myself.”
“No…no, I think it would be better for me to deal with him. I’ll get you the money within the week, no matter what.”
They headed back to the office. Mr. Hackett pulled up the bill, made some adjustments and printed off a copy for her. He put it in an envelope and held it up to her. She took it, smiled, turned on her heel and was out the door.
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Four hours later, she pulled up in front of a dilapidated farmhouse. Dust filled the air from her trek up the long, winding dirt road to the house. The sun was bright and she squinted up at the gables of the old place. Sloppy globs of white paint covered parts of the wood outside the windows.
That’s his handiwork, all right, she thought. She pursed her lips and walked up the creaking steps to the screen door, rapping loudly. She looked down and noticed a burned out place where the doorbell would be. Working on that, too, she thought. She knocked loudly on the screen door once more before pulling on it. Finding it unlocked, she stepped inside. It was hotter inside the house, the air stale and thick.
“Hello? Sebastian? Sebastian!”
That’s his handiwork, all right, she thought. She pursed her lips and walked up the creaking steps to the screen door, rapping loudly. She looked down and noticed a burned out place where the doorbell would be. Working on that, too, she thought. She knocked loudly on the screen door once more before pulling on it. Finding it unlocked, she stepped inside. It was hotter inside the house, the air stale and thick.
“Hello? Sebastian? Sebastian!”
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A door on the back creaked and slammed. Sebastian came around the corner, wiping sweat from his face and neck.
“Samantha?” he smiled, his teeth looking exceptionally white against the dirt on his face. “What are you doing here?”
He came at her, his arms outstretched and she stepped back, putting her hands up to block him. He frowned and turned away, continuing to wipe at his face.
“Sorry. I’ve been working on the garden out back.” He looked up at her and smiled like a little boy, “I’ve got tomatoes, spinach, potatoes, carrots, and two rows of corn! It’s coming along nicely."
"Excuse me a second," he added, pulling his sweaty, white tank off and tossing it on the dusty couch behind him. He glanced back at her, raising his eyebrows and grinning brightly, a look of hope crossing his features.
She fidgeted and crossed her arms across her chest. She was not going to be taken in by his boyish good looks and that damn smile of his.
He frowned again, “So what are you doing here?” he asked, flipping the now wet rag around his neck.
“I got a call from Mr. Hackett this morning. I went and…I saw the damage to the unit you rented. You know the one I co-signed for you?”
He perched one arm up on the mantle and stared into the empty fireplace. When several minutes passed and he didn’t move, she reached in her purse and pulled out the envelope.
“It’s quite a bill and I’m going to have to pay this thing, if you don’t.”
He scoffed and turned to face her. He was wearing an old pair of blue jeans and his muscular chest and arms glistened with sweat. His hair was unruly and his eyes flashed with annoyance, but they still seemed brighter than ever. She hated the way he made her feel. She fidgeted under his gaze and held the envelope out to him.
“Hackett is a con-artist, Sam.” He snatched the envelope from her and ripped into it. Looking it over, he grunted and began to crumple the paper.
“Wait!” she yelled, holding up her hand, “I said that I’m going to have to pay that, if you don’t. The place…you really screwed up, Sebastian. It’s a mess.”
He stopped crumpling the paper and set it down on the small, wobbly wooden table next to him.
“Sam,” he whispered. He looked up at her and bit his lip, “Samantha, I’m sorry.”
She turned her head, looking into the hall. She was caving, already. All the resilience and determination she’d mustered on the drive there wilted when he bit his lip, his eyes piercing into her. For all his instability and contrary ways, she still loved him. She folded her arms, almost hugging her body. She glanced at him and then dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Give me a few minutes. Let me go wash the dust off. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.” He started past her. When he reached out to her and she jumped, she saw a frown cross his lips. “I’ll…be right back, Sam.”
She wanted to tell him not to bother. She knew he’d come up with some excuse for not paying and she’d be stuck. Why drag this mess out? What was only a ten minute shower, floorboards creaking and water running above her, felt like hours as her inner battle raged on. She’d walk to the door and begin to push it open and then turn and pace, walk back to the door and back again. She knew it was stupid for her to drive out here. Mr. Hackett had offered to contact Sebastian himself. Why didn’t she take it? She was standing at the screen door, staring at nothing in particular, her hand resting on the screen, pushing lightly at it. The creak as it moved back and forth lulled her into a catatonic state.
“Samantha?”
“Samantha?” he smiled, his teeth looking exceptionally white against the dirt on his face. “What are you doing here?”
He came at her, his arms outstretched and she stepped back, putting her hands up to block him. He frowned and turned away, continuing to wipe at his face.
“Sorry. I’ve been working on the garden out back.” He looked up at her and smiled like a little boy, “I’ve got tomatoes, spinach, potatoes, carrots, and two rows of corn! It’s coming along nicely."
"Excuse me a second," he added, pulling his sweaty, white tank off and tossing it on the dusty couch behind him. He glanced back at her, raising his eyebrows and grinning brightly, a look of hope crossing his features.
She fidgeted and crossed her arms across her chest. She was not going to be taken in by his boyish good looks and that damn smile of his.
He frowned again, “So what are you doing here?” he asked, flipping the now wet rag around his neck.
“I got a call from Mr. Hackett this morning. I went and…I saw the damage to the unit you rented. You know the one I co-signed for you?”
He perched one arm up on the mantle and stared into the empty fireplace. When several minutes passed and he didn’t move, she reached in her purse and pulled out the envelope.
“It’s quite a bill and I’m going to have to pay this thing, if you don’t.”
He scoffed and turned to face her. He was wearing an old pair of blue jeans and his muscular chest and arms glistened with sweat. His hair was unruly and his eyes flashed with annoyance, but they still seemed brighter than ever. She hated the way he made her feel. She fidgeted under his gaze and held the envelope out to him.
“Hackett is a con-artist, Sam.” He snatched the envelope from her and ripped into it. Looking it over, he grunted and began to crumple the paper.
“Wait!” she yelled, holding up her hand, “I said that I’m going to have to pay that, if you don’t. The place…you really screwed up, Sebastian. It’s a mess.”
He stopped crumpling the paper and set it down on the small, wobbly wooden table next to him.
“Sam,” he whispered. He looked up at her and bit his lip, “Samantha, I’m sorry.”
She turned her head, looking into the hall. She was caving, already. All the resilience and determination she’d mustered on the drive there wilted when he bit his lip, his eyes piercing into her. For all his instability and contrary ways, she still loved him. She folded her arms, almost hugging her body. She glanced at him and then dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Give me a few minutes. Let me go wash the dust off. I’ll make some coffee and we can talk.” He started past her. When he reached out to her and she jumped, she saw a frown cross his lips. “I’ll…be right back, Sam.”
She wanted to tell him not to bother. She knew he’d come up with some excuse for not paying and she’d be stuck. Why drag this mess out? What was only a ten minute shower, floorboards creaking and water running above her, felt like hours as her inner battle raged on. She’d walk to the door and begin to push it open and then turn and pace, walk back to the door and back again. She knew it was stupid for her to drive out here. Mr. Hackett had offered to contact Sebastian himself. Why didn’t she take it? She was standing at the screen door, staring at nothing in particular, her hand resting on the screen, pushing lightly at it. The creak as it moved back and forth lulled her into a catatonic state.
“Samantha?”
![Picture](/uploads/3/2/1/9/32190095/1405762633.png?250)
She jolted and turned. He stood in front of her, hair still damp, slicked back, wearing clean dark blue jeans and a red button-down, with a white t-shirt underneath.
He walked up to her and touched her face, pulling her chin up, “You okay?”
She pulled away and shook her head, “I’m fine, Sebastian. Now, can we talk about this bill? I can’t believe you tore up the place and just left everything…”
“Wait,” he held up his hands, “I didn’t ‘just leave.’ Aunt Willa got sick. She was in the hospital. What was I supposed to do?”
“How about tell me? Your aunt was like a mother to me, even in the short time I knew her.” She felt tears prick at her eyes, “How could you keep it from me? You absolutely did ‘just leave,’ Sebastian. I didn’t know what happened until I read her obituary in the paper!” She bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears and turned away. “This was clearly a mistake.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.
She resisted at first, letting her arms fall to her sides, but her grief and all the regret and pain she’d held in for the last two months spilled over and she wrapped her arms around him, grasping his shirt.
She sucked in a deep breath and pulled away. He looked at her and cupped her face.
“We’d just fought the day before. You said you didn’t want to see me again. I didn’t know what to do. I figured some time spent apart would be better for you…for us.”
He turned and walked back to the fireplace.
“I didn’t expect her to die, Samantha. When she did, I just…I came here to her place. It’s falling apart, you know. I felt…I feel all this guilt. It’s like it’s my fault. I didn’t take care of her.”
She felt horrible. She hadn’t dealt with his ‘disappearing act’ as well as she thought she had. She’d grieved over his aunt’s passing, although she didn’t have the strength to face him at the funeral. She’d snuck in the church, sat at the back and left just prior to the close. She’d spent two months hating him, cursing his abandonment, crying buckets of tears over him. Here she was facing him again and instead of hating him, she felt this weird bitterness mixed with compassion. How could he do that to her? She wanted to punch him and hug him all in the same motion.
Looking around the room at the soiled baseboards, collapsing curtain rods, and the cobwebs in every corner, she shook her head.
“She knew you loved her, Sebastian. It was written all over her face. Whenever we’d visit, she’d light up like a Christmas tree. But, you suck at renovations. Remember? I saw the apartment unit. What the hell were you doing to the floors? There were all those holes in the walls and all those unfinished projects. What exactly would you be able to do for her here?”
There was that battle again, the desire to console and curse him in the same sentence. He turned and his mouth gaped. He started to blurt a defense but instead clamped his mouth shut and shrugged his shoulders. He reached down, picked up the paper and envelope and motioned for her to follow him.
They went in the kitchen. When he went to make the coffee, she held up her hand and told him she didn’t want any. They moved over and sat in the rickety wooden chairs that surrounded the familiar flower-patterned Formica table that she’d ate at a dozen or so times in the last year. It was still settled crookedly in the bright yellow nook.
She sat watching him as he read through the list of repairs that the unit needed. He didn’t frown or smile. He didn’t scoff or laugh or sigh. He simply read through the paper. When he finished, he set it down on the table. Picking up the torn envelope and without a word, he stood, walked over to a cabinet and opened the door. He pulled a rusted coffee can from the middle shelf, reached in it and produced a large mound of money. He put the can under his arm, unrolled the bills and began counting them, stopping to lick his thumb once. She didn’t know whether to be shocked or not at this display. When he stopped counting, he dropped the counted bills by the sink, crammed the rest of the money back in the can and placed it back on the shelf. With one motion, he slammed the cabinet door and picked up the cash, stuffing it in the envelope. He washed his hands and turned to her. He was frowning and looked a little angry. Sam felt a chill run through her and then a pang of guilt at her sharp words before.
He walked over and dropped the envelope in front of her. The money smelled musty or maybe it was moldy and she wondered where it had been. She didn’t touch the envelope but only looked up at him.
“Now, that’s settled,” he said, clenching his jaw and looking terribly sad.
He reached out and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. A rush of emotions ran through her. A panic rose as she assumed he was about to walk her out the door and tell her goodbye. She wanted to apologize for her harsh words. She wanted to thank him for the money. She couldn’t produce the words!
“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning into her for a moment. “I want you to see what I’ve done.”
A surge of relief ran through her and she silently chastised herself for letting him affect her emotions so easily. She nodded and gulped. He let one of her hands drop and pulled her along behind him, past the table, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
“Sam. I know I’m not the most trustworthy person. I know my track record screams apathy. I really wasn’t trying to screw up…that place. I have a hard time focusing on one project at a time, that’s all. I hope that what I’m about to show you will, at least, give you some sense of how I’ve changed.”
“Sebastian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s okay, Sam,” he shrugged, “what I did to that place…it sucked. You’re right. I shouldn’t have left it in such a mess.”
He walked up to her and touched her face, pulling her chin up, “You okay?”
She pulled away and shook her head, “I’m fine, Sebastian. Now, can we talk about this bill? I can’t believe you tore up the place and just left everything…”
“Wait,” he held up his hands, “I didn’t ‘just leave.’ Aunt Willa got sick. She was in the hospital. What was I supposed to do?”
“How about tell me? Your aunt was like a mother to me, even in the short time I knew her.” She felt tears prick at her eyes, “How could you keep it from me? You absolutely did ‘just leave,’ Sebastian. I didn’t know what happened until I read her obituary in the paper!” She bit her lip to keep from bursting into tears and turned away. “This was clearly a mistake.”
He reached out and grabbed her arm, swinging her around.
“I’m sorry, Samantha. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do.” He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.
She resisted at first, letting her arms fall to her sides, but her grief and all the regret and pain she’d held in for the last two months spilled over and she wrapped her arms around him, grasping his shirt.
She sucked in a deep breath and pulled away. He looked at her and cupped her face.
“We’d just fought the day before. You said you didn’t want to see me again. I didn’t know what to do. I figured some time spent apart would be better for you…for us.”
He turned and walked back to the fireplace.
“I didn’t expect her to die, Samantha. When she did, I just…I came here to her place. It’s falling apart, you know. I felt…I feel all this guilt. It’s like it’s my fault. I didn’t take care of her.”
She felt horrible. She hadn’t dealt with his ‘disappearing act’ as well as she thought she had. She’d grieved over his aunt’s passing, although she didn’t have the strength to face him at the funeral. She’d snuck in the church, sat at the back and left just prior to the close. She’d spent two months hating him, cursing his abandonment, crying buckets of tears over him. Here she was facing him again and instead of hating him, she felt this weird bitterness mixed with compassion. How could he do that to her? She wanted to punch him and hug him all in the same motion.
Looking around the room at the soiled baseboards, collapsing curtain rods, and the cobwebs in every corner, she shook her head.
“She knew you loved her, Sebastian. It was written all over her face. Whenever we’d visit, she’d light up like a Christmas tree. But, you suck at renovations. Remember? I saw the apartment unit. What the hell were you doing to the floors? There were all those holes in the walls and all those unfinished projects. What exactly would you be able to do for her here?”
There was that battle again, the desire to console and curse him in the same sentence. He turned and his mouth gaped. He started to blurt a defense but instead clamped his mouth shut and shrugged his shoulders. He reached down, picked up the paper and envelope and motioned for her to follow him.
They went in the kitchen. When he went to make the coffee, she held up her hand and told him she didn’t want any. They moved over and sat in the rickety wooden chairs that surrounded the familiar flower-patterned Formica table that she’d ate at a dozen or so times in the last year. It was still settled crookedly in the bright yellow nook.
She sat watching him as he read through the list of repairs that the unit needed. He didn’t frown or smile. He didn’t scoff or laugh or sigh. He simply read through the paper. When he finished, he set it down on the table. Picking up the torn envelope and without a word, he stood, walked over to a cabinet and opened the door. He pulled a rusted coffee can from the middle shelf, reached in it and produced a large mound of money. He put the can under his arm, unrolled the bills and began counting them, stopping to lick his thumb once. She didn’t know whether to be shocked or not at this display. When he stopped counting, he dropped the counted bills by the sink, crammed the rest of the money back in the can and placed it back on the shelf. With one motion, he slammed the cabinet door and picked up the cash, stuffing it in the envelope. He washed his hands and turned to her. He was frowning and looked a little angry. Sam felt a chill run through her and then a pang of guilt at her sharp words before.
He walked over and dropped the envelope in front of her. The money smelled musty or maybe it was moldy and she wondered where it had been. She didn’t touch the envelope but only looked up at him.
“Now, that’s settled,” he said, clenching his jaw and looking terribly sad.
He reached out and took her hands, pulling her to her feet. A rush of emotions ran through her. A panic rose as she assumed he was about to walk her out the door and tell her goodbye. She wanted to apologize for her harsh words. She wanted to thank him for the money. She couldn’t produce the words!
“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning into her for a moment. “I want you to see what I’ve done.”
A surge of relief ran through her and she silently chastised herself for letting him affect her emotions so easily. She nodded and gulped. He let one of her hands drop and pulled her along behind him, past the table, through the kitchen, and out the back door.
“Sam. I know I’m not the most trustworthy person. I know my track record screams apathy. I really wasn’t trying to screw up…that place. I have a hard time focusing on one project at a time, that’s all. I hope that what I’m about to show you will, at least, give you some sense of how I’ve changed.”
“Sebastian, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”
“It’s okay, Sam,” he shrugged, “what I did to that place…it sucked. You’re right. I shouldn’t have left it in such a mess.”
![Picture](/uploads/3/2/1/9/32190095/1405758731.png?250)
They turned a corner around a shed and Sam’s mouth dropped open. There was the most beautiful garden she’d ever seen. Not only were there six perfect rows of different green plants poking out of the soil, he’d surrounded the rows with a fence barrier against the various wildlife that might want a snack, as well. Next to the garden, there was a beautiful, brand new wooden bench swing. Several steps from the garden but within sight of the swing, a granite birdbath sat surrounded by bright gerbera daisies and purple hyacinths. It was so stunning. When she pulled her eyes away and looked over at him, he was smiling proudly. She let go of his hand and walked the perimeter, running her fingers through the water of the birdbath and finally sitting down in the swing.
“You did all of this?” she asked, incredulous.
“I did. It’s been great therapy for me.” He came over and sat next to her.
“Samantha,” he whispered.
She was still taking it all in, but when he touched her cheek, she turned to him.
“Samantha, I wanted…I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know what to say. You have every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve told you about Aunt Willa. I made a lot of mistakes.”
“So did I, Sebastian. As soon as I realized you were gone, I knew you’d be here. I knew it, but I was angry…and…hurt. I could’ve come to you. I should’ve known something was wrong.”
He smiled and laughed lightly, “Always taking the blame, Sam. None of it was your fault.”
“You did all of this?” she asked, incredulous.
“I did. It’s been great therapy for me.” He came over and sat next to her.
“Samantha,” he whispered.
She was still taking it all in, but when he touched her cheek, she turned to him.
“Samantha, I wanted…I wanted to call you, but I didn’t know what to say. You have every right to be angry. I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve told you about Aunt Willa. I made a lot of mistakes.”
“So did I, Sebastian. As soon as I realized you were gone, I knew you’d be here. I knew it, but I was angry…and…hurt. I could’ve come to you. I should’ve known something was wrong.”
He smiled and laughed lightly, “Always taking the blame, Sam. None of it was your fault.”
![Picture](/uploads/3/2/1/9/32190095/1405759084.png?250)
He started to say something else, but stopped. He leaned back in the swing and as it began to sway, Sam leaned back, finding his arm behind her. They sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the birds chirping in the trees. A few brave robins swooped down to splash and flutter in the bath.
“It needs a scarecrow,” Sam observed, breaking the silence.
“What?” Sebastian asked.
“Once that corn starts popping out, crows will come. The garden needs a scarecrow. And you need some chicken wire down at the bottom. It will help protect the carrots and spinach from rabbits. That fence is great to keep out the deer, though. You put it in the right place, and I love the gate.”
He stared at her, “How do you know so much about gardens?”
Sam realized that in the year they’d spent together dating, they really knew very little about each other. The most she knew about him was that he sometimes worked construction, which seemed ridiculous to her until now, and that, like her, his parents had died when he was young. She’d been put in foster care and he was raised by dear Aunt Willa. She’d never told him about her childhood, other than her parents had died and she’d spent 10 years in foster care. They never talked about pasts. What did they talk about? She talked a lot about her work and her friends. Sitting there in that beautiful place, she saw clearly why they hadn’t worked before and maybe why commitment wasn’t at the top of his list.
“Samantha? Sam, where did you just go?”
She turned to him, tears brimming, “I never told you?”
She knew she hadn’t, but it was a good segue. She told him about what was really her only good experience in foster care. She was just 10 years old when she was sent to live with the Graysons. They made such an impact on her that when she turned 18, she changed her last name.
“My parents…my last name used to be Alderton. I hated that name. Did I ever tell you how my parents died?”
Sebastian shook his head, compassion covering his face.
“They were drug addicts. They died from an overdose on the same night. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat with them, crying. I was so hungry. My neighbor, I guess she heard me calling out to them and called the police when I wouldn’t answer the door.”
“My God, Sam. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her closer to him. “Tell me about the Graysons,” he whispered into her hair, kissing it.
Samantha smiled and leaned into him. Something felt different here in this place. Maybe it was the spirit of sweet Willa. Maybe it was because she’d finally realized the mistakes she had made, not in trusting Sebastian too much, but in not trusting him at all.
She told him about how angry she was when the Child Protective Services lady drove her out to the Grayson farm. The first three homes she’d been shuttled to were horrible. Abuse, including depriving her of food and proper clothing abounded in those places. Mrs. Grayson greeted her and the worker at the door. When she invited them in, hunger pangs struck Samantha. She could smell the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and could see the milk carafe sitting on the table in the kitchen. She wouldn’t let that fool her, though. She’d seen this kind of thing before. The “fosters” always put on a good show for the worker bees. In the two years since her parents had died, she’d become completely jaded to the whole process. She knew no one adopted older kids and that she was just dollar signs in the eyes of the “fosters.”
After the worker bee left, though, the Graysons slowly began to win her over. She was their first and only foster child. They were always kind, even when she snapped at them. When she would pull away from their hugs, they’d just smile and tell her it was okay. One day, when Mrs. Grayson was busy cooking in the kitchen, Sam had made her way outside. She found Mr. Grayson on his knees, holding a tool and poking holes in neatly formed rows. When she asked him what he was doing, he looked at her surprised and told her he was preparing his vegetable garden. When she crouched down to watch, her hands on her knees, he smiled at her and motioned her over.
Her love of gardening began that day. She loved the feel of the dirt between her fingers. She loved how she’d put all that work into it and the reward would be the little green sprouts poking up through the dark brown soil. Mr. Grayson taught her not only how to plant but how to tend to the garden and protect it from predators. He’d even let her choose what to plant in “her two rows.” She’d chosen carrots and corn, although she’d never had either freshly grown before. She’d only remembered how getting either from a can had been a delicacy. Other than boiled potatoes from time to time, she’d never had any other vegetables. She felt embarrassed at admitting she had never even heard of squash. Mr. Grayson often frowned when she’d tell him about her past. She didn’t like to see him frown, so she’d work to keep it to herself.
“And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past year, Sebastian…with you.”
Sebastian hugged her, “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming, either, Sam. Willa,” he laughed, “she would scold me about you. She loved you, you know? She knew you were good for me.”
Samantha laughed, “Love is blind, then.”
“I loved her, too…”
He squeezed her and scoffed, “I was the blind one.”
“Tell me more about the Graysons. I love listening to you.”
She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over.
She went on; telling him about how as each section of the garden was ready to be harvested that the Graysons would hug her in delight and tell her how proud they were of her. She loved harvesting the reward of her labor. The fresh corn, peeled and boiled and then garnished with a large dollop of butter was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She’d tried the okra and only liked it when Mrs. Grayson would fry it. One of her favorite things was standing next to Mrs. Grayson, helping her peel potatoes for the beef stew or to be mashed with the big electric mixer. When it was time to pull her carrots, her anticipation was palpable. As each dirty orange vegetable rose from the ground, she gasped in delight. She couldn’t believe she had grown them.
“How long were you with them?” Sebastian interrupted.
Samantha frowned and stood up, dusting nothing in particular off her pant legs.
“Come on. Let’s go make a scarecrow. Those birds look hungry.”
“Samantha…” Sebastian stood up next to her. When he looked in her eyes and saw the tears touching the corners, he stopped.
“I know I’ve got some old hay in the barn. It’s this way.”
He took her hand and led her to the barn, which compared to the house, was in relatively good condition. In the corner, they found a couple of broken bales of hay and began to collect it, whole arms full. When Sebastian pulled one piece out and poked it in his mouth, Sam laughed. He chewed the tip of it and looked at her with surprise.
“What? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do?”
Sam followed suit, poking a piece between her teeth, and they carried their piles of hay back out toward the garden, stray pieces falling haplessly behind them. They dumped the remaining hay in a pile near the garden and laughed at the trail they left.
Sam went back in the house and up the stairs where she knew Willa had kept various pieces of flannel and cotton material. By the time she found what she wanted and went back down the stairs, she was soaked with sweat. She held the material perched on one hip and began pulling drawers in the kitchen until she found a drawer full of thread, needles, and various sized buttons. She chose the bright red thread, a good-sized needle, and enough buttons to make two eyes and a nose. She poked the needle into the material and headed out the door.
“It needs a scarecrow,” Sam observed, breaking the silence.
“What?” Sebastian asked.
“Once that corn starts popping out, crows will come. The garden needs a scarecrow. And you need some chicken wire down at the bottom. It will help protect the carrots and spinach from rabbits. That fence is great to keep out the deer, though. You put it in the right place, and I love the gate.”
He stared at her, “How do you know so much about gardens?”
Sam realized that in the year they’d spent together dating, they really knew very little about each other. The most she knew about him was that he sometimes worked construction, which seemed ridiculous to her until now, and that, like her, his parents had died when he was young. She’d been put in foster care and he was raised by dear Aunt Willa. She’d never told him about her childhood, other than her parents had died and she’d spent 10 years in foster care. They never talked about pasts. What did they talk about? She talked a lot about her work and her friends. Sitting there in that beautiful place, she saw clearly why they hadn’t worked before and maybe why commitment wasn’t at the top of his list.
“Samantha? Sam, where did you just go?”
She turned to him, tears brimming, “I never told you?”
She knew she hadn’t, but it was a good segue. She told him about what was really her only good experience in foster care. She was just 10 years old when she was sent to live with the Graysons. They made such an impact on her that when she turned 18, she changed her last name.
“My parents…my last name used to be Alderton. I hated that name. Did I ever tell you how my parents died?”
Sebastian shook his head, compassion covering his face.
“They were drug addicts. They died from an overdose on the same night. I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. I just sat with them, crying. I was so hungry. My neighbor, I guess she heard me calling out to them and called the police when I wouldn’t answer the door.”
“My God, Sam. I’m so sorry.” He pulled her closer to him. “Tell me about the Graysons,” he whispered into her hair, kissing it.
Samantha smiled and leaned into him. Something felt different here in this place. Maybe it was the spirit of sweet Willa. Maybe it was because she’d finally realized the mistakes she had made, not in trusting Sebastian too much, but in not trusting him at all.
She told him about how angry she was when the Child Protective Services lady drove her out to the Grayson farm. The first three homes she’d been shuttled to were horrible. Abuse, including depriving her of food and proper clothing abounded in those places. Mrs. Grayson greeted her and the worker at the door. When she invited them in, hunger pangs struck Samantha. She could smell the freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and could see the milk carafe sitting on the table in the kitchen. She wouldn’t let that fool her, though. She’d seen this kind of thing before. The “fosters” always put on a good show for the worker bees. In the two years since her parents had died, she’d become completely jaded to the whole process. She knew no one adopted older kids and that she was just dollar signs in the eyes of the “fosters.”
After the worker bee left, though, the Graysons slowly began to win her over. She was their first and only foster child. They were always kind, even when she snapped at them. When she would pull away from their hugs, they’d just smile and tell her it was okay. One day, when Mrs. Grayson was busy cooking in the kitchen, Sam had made her way outside. She found Mr. Grayson on his knees, holding a tool and poking holes in neatly formed rows. When she asked him what he was doing, he looked at her surprised and told her he was preparing his vegetable garden. When she crouched down to watch, her hands on her knees, he smiled at her and motioned her over.
Her love of gardening began that day. She loved the feel of the dirt between her fingers. She loved how she’d put all that work into it and the reward would be the little green sprouts poking up through the dark brown soil. Mr. Grayson taught her not only how to plant but how to tend to the garden and protect it from predators. He’d even let her choose what to plant in “her two rows.” She’d chosen carrots and corn, although she’d never had either freshly grown before. She’d only remembered how getting either from a can had been a delicacy. Other than boiled potatoes from time to time, she’d never had any other vegetables. She felt embarrassed at admitting she had never even heard of squash. Mr. Grayson often frowned when she’d tell him about her past. She didn’t like to see him frown, so she’d work to keep it to herself.
“And that’s what I’ve been doing for the past year, Sebastian…with you.”
Sebastian hugged her, “I haven’t exactly been forthcoming, either, Sam. Willa,” he laughed, “she would scold me about you. She loved you, you know? She knew you were good for me.”
Samantha laughed, “Love is blind, then.”
“I loved her, too…”
He squeezed her and scoffed, “I was the blind one.”
“Tell me more about the Graysons. I love listening to you.”
She bit her lip, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over.
She went on; telling him about how as each section of the garden was ready to be harvested that the Graysons would hug her in delight and tell her how proud they were of her. She loved harvesting the reward of her labor. The fresh corn, peeled and boiled and then garnished with a large dollop of butter was the best thing she’d ever tasted. She’d tried the okra and only liked it when Mrs. Grayson would fry it. One of her favorite things was standing next to Mrs. Grayson, helping her peel potatoes for the beef stew or to be mashed with the big electric mixer. When it was time to pull her carrots, her anticipation was palpable. As each dirty orange vegetable rose from the ground, she gasped in delight. She couldn’t believe she had grown them.
“How long were you with them?” Sebastian interrupted.
Samantha frowned and stood up, dusting nothing in particular off her pant legs.
“Come on. Let’s go make a scarecrow. Those birds look hungry.”
“Samantha…” Sebastian stood up next to her. When he looked in her eyes and saw the tears touching the corners, he stopped.
“I know I’ve got some old hay in the barn. It’s this way.”
He took her hand and led her to the barn, which compared to the house, was in relatively good condition. In the corner, they found a couple of broken bales of hay and began to collect it, whole arms full. When Sebastian pulled one piece out and poked it in his mouth, Sam laughed. He chewed the tip of it and looked at her with surprise.
“What? Isn’t this what you’re supposed to do?”
Sam followed suit, poking a piece between her teeth, and they carried their piles of hay back out toward the garden, stray pieces falling haplessly behind them. They dumped the remaining hay in a pile near the garden and laughed at the trail they left.
Sam went back in the house and up the stairs where she knew Willa had kept various pieces of flannel and cotton material. By the time she found what she wanted and went back down the stairs, she was soaked with sweat. She held the material perched on one hip and began pulling drawers in the kitchen until she found a drawer full of thread, needles, and various sized buttons. She chose the bright red thread, a good-sized needle, and enough buttons to make two eyes and a nose. She poked the needle into the material and headed out the door.
![Picture](/uploads/3/2/1/9/32190095/1405759546.png?250)
As the steps creaked under her feet, she remembered the last time she was here. Sebastian asked her to come with him on a weekend job. They could stay with Willa, who was feeling lonely, and he wouldn’t feel like he was leaving Sam alone, either. Willa had made a blueberry pie to welcome them. Sam would sit in the front room with Willa, the windows opened wide and chat until Willa would fall off into a nap. Sam would then make her way out the back and walk around, looking at the overgrown gardens and sagging trees. She would stand and let the breeze blow across her face and the tears spill down her cheeks. She had too many memories and they wouldn’t leave her alone. She figured the reason she stayed with Sebastian for so long, blaming herself for everything, paying for everything, doing everything was because she felt an odd security in his apparent lack of care for her. She knew how messed up it was to feel that way, but she didn’t want to get close to anyone else ever again.
The fact that in the short time Sam knew her Willa had broken through some of those barriers was a true testament to the power of Willa’s unconditional love for people.
Sam smiled at the memory of Willa, who found her crying out by an old tree with an old tire swing. Willa didn’t ask any questions or prod for reasons. She just held her like a mother holds a child and sang quietly until Sam’s tears subsided.
Sam continued back out to the garden and found Sebastian at work on the wood that would be the “backbone” of their scarecrow. She sat in the swing and made quick work of sewing pieces of fabric together until they formed a round head, square body, and long pieces for the arms and legs. She fixed the buttons for the eyes and nose and used the thread to form a smile. She left a small opening in each and stuffed them with the hay.
Sebastian paused in his work and looked over, surprised at what Sam had fashioned.
“That looks great! I didn’t know you could sew!”
Sam frowned, “I spent hours and hours sewing when I was put at the Oakley’s place. She sold clothing at craft fairs all over the state. We foster kids were her own little sweat shop.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Sebastian felt the pang of guilt.
Sam looked up at him and smiled, “Oh, it’s okay. I like to sew now. I mean, I’m glad I learned. I used to think I’d never touch a needle and thread ever again, but Willa…she encouraged me. I used to help her mend your clothes.”
“I didn’t know that!” he smiled. “I’m glad Willa had you here with her.”
Sam felt sadness seep into her and shook it off. She set the pieces of scarecrow on the ground and walked over to him, kneeling down next to him.
“Me, too.”
“These look great! He’s going to be a strong scarecrow,” she touched the wood, which he’d sanded to take out the splinters.
The fact that in the short time Sam knew her Willa had broken through some of those barriers was a true testament to the power of Willa’s unconditional love for people.
Sam smiled at the memory of Willa, who found her crying out by an old tree with an old tire swing. Willa didn’t ask any questions or prod for reasons. She just held her like a mother holds a child and sang quietly until Sam’s tears subsided.
Sam continued back out to the garden and found Sebastian at work on the wood that would be the “backbone” of their scarecrow. She sat in the swing and made quick work of sewing pieces of fabric together until they formed a round head, square body, and long pieces for the arms and legs. She fixed the buttons for the eyes and nose and used the thread to form a smile. She left a small opening in each and stuffed them with the hay.
Sebastian paused in his work and looked over, surprised at what Sam had fashioned.
“That looks great! I didn’t know you could sew!”
Sam frowned, “I spent hours and hours sewing when I was put at the Oakley’s place. She sold clothing at craft fairs all over the state. We foster kids were her own little sweat shop.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Sebastian felt the pang of guilt.
Sam looked up at him and smiled, “Oh, it’s okay. I like to sew now. I mean, I’m glad I learned. I used to think I’d never touch a needle and thread ever again, but Willa…she encouraged me. I used to help her mend your clothes.”
“I didn’t know that!” he smiled. “I’m glad Willa had you here with her.”
Sam felt sadness seep into her and shook it off. She set the pieces of scarecrow on the ground and walked over to him, kneeling down next to him.
“Me, too.”
“These look great! He’s going to be a strong scarecrow,” she touched the wood, which he’d sanded to take out the splinters.
![Picture](/uploads/3/2/1/9/32190095/1405759807.png?250)
He agreed and leaned over to kiss her cheek. She stood and went back over to finish sewing up the scarecrow. Together they assembled him and after Sebastian hammered the wood into the ground, they stepped back and admired their work. They quickly decided he needed a hat, Sebastian running off into the house and back in a few minutes with an old farm hat. Sebastian pulled the stepstool over and helped Sam climb up. She made a few quick strokes with the needle and thread, tested to see if the hat was secure, made a few more sweeps, tugged the hat and nodded with satisfaction.
Sebastian pulled Sam off the stool, holding her in his arms. He twirled her around a few times before planting a kiss on her lips.
“I’m sorry for how I treated you, Sam. I took advantage. I was scared. Aunt Willa was so disappointed in me. She definitely didn’t raise me that way. Will you let me make it up to you?”
Sam could hardly believe she was in this moment. He held her easily and her lips were still warm from his kiss. His eyes reflected sincerity, and she knew that coming out here to this place was the best decision she’d ever made in her life.
“Only if you’ll let me make up my mistakes, too,” she countered.
He smiled and laughed, carrying her up those bless-ed rickety steps and into that old worn down house. When they passed the kitchen counter, she set the needles and thread down and wrapped her hands around his neck. He stopped as she kissed him.
Several minutes later, they pulled from their kiss, and he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. He barely took his eyes from hers. As the sun began to set on the horizon and the crickets chirped their nightly melodies, Sebastian and Samantha made love for the first time since they’d met over a year before.
And they lived happily ever after….
Sebastian pulled Sam off the stool, holding her in his arms. He twirled her around a few times before planting a kiss on her lips.
“I’m sorry for how I treated you, Sam. I took advantage. I was scared. Aunt Willa was so disappointed in me. She definitely didn’t raise me that way. Will you let me make it up to you?”
Sam could hardly believe she was in this moment. He held her easily and her lips were still warm from his kiss. His eyes reflected sincerity, and she knew that coming out here to this place was the best decision she’d ever made in her life.
“Only if you’ll let me make up my mistakes, too,” she countered.
He smiled and laughed, carrying her up those bless-ed rickety steps and into that old worn down house. When they passed the kitchen counter, she set the needles and thread down and wrapped her hands around his neck. He stopped as she kissed him.
Several minutes later, they pulled from their kiss, and he carried her up the stairs to his bedroom. He barely took his eyes from hers. As the sun began to set on the horizon and the crickets chirped their nightly melodies, Sebastian and Samantha made love for the first time since they’d met over a year before.
And they lived happily ever after….