By forestport12
Sam Townes infant son passed away in his arms while standing near his wife’s bedside. As he told his child goodbye, he could feel his hope of having a child slipping away from beneath him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell Sarah that he was done trying to have a child in the natural way. He leaned over and kissed her sweaty brow where it seemed all anguish of loss surfaced. He hoped to pull her back from the brink of a mental collapse with carefully constructed words. “Don’t blame yourself. You are enough for me. You are all I need.”
A nurse stepped in to remove the dead infant, but not before Sam laid the lifeless child in Sarah’s arms. She kissed the child long enough for her tears to stain his cheeks. She’d been through this moment before, another loss, a perilous moment when she extended her arms to the nurse and let the loss fall like a sledgehammer to her heart.
Sarah’s contorted face turned to anger. She grabbed Sam’s arms as he held the railing between them for balance. She pinched Sam until he winced in pain. “Why? What happened to all those prayers? All those promises. Why does God punish us?”
Sam wanted to shrink and dribble away. He was the one who quoted the scripture at home. He was the one who kept a prayer vigil at church. He knew in her fragile state, he couldn’t tell her God must have another path when she dug her fingernails into arms.
When the transfer of pain became too much for Sam, he pried away from her grip and stumbled backward. A guttural cry came from Sarah. It sounded like a cat caught in a claw-trap, a feral sound of abandoned hope.
Another nurse rushed inside with a needle in her hand. After the nurse put his wife to sleep, Sam slinked away and thought about exiting the building, hoping to avoid her mother. As he limped down the luminous hall, it was obvious that he had one deformed leg, thin and shorter than the other. He had polio, as a kid. He wasn’t supposed to live, but he proved the doctors wrong. He was his parent’s miracle child, because he lived, despite the constant pain when he walked.
As Sam stumbled around the corner to the waiting room, his mother-in-law was there to greet him. The disappointment in her eyes and constipated look spoke more than words. She stood close enough for him to breathe in her minted breath. “You’re done putting my daughter’s life in danger. You should have sterilized.”
Sam didn’t have any words for her. He limped through the revolving doors, exiting the building where he was free to hide in the darkness, if he could just escape the lights in the parking lot.
| Author Notes | I decided I had to do this. Although this is a work of fiction, it was inspired by true story and friend. I'm dedicating this book to him. His character is my inspiration, though fallible, yet not without empathy. To this day, if you happen to be on a certain road by near Lynchburg Virginia, there is a cross in his name. |
By forestport12
Sam slipped away from the hospital into the night of an early November blizzard. The wind sliced through his coat, and the icy snow stung his face. He flipped his collar and tucked his head, as if crashing through ghostly waves in the parking lot.
If only he could dash to his car. He forced his weak leg forward through drifts of snow. The pain radiated to his hip, but he pushed on to his car. His poor gate reminded him of his childhood. He was the first target in dodge ball and the last to be picked; The first to be found in a game of hide n seek after closed eyes counted to ten.
He ducked into his Subaru Impreza and fished his pocket for the keys. He blew on his hands, then cranked the engine to a roar. With a fogged windshield, he rocked the car until the tires stopped spinning in place. Straining his wet eyes and swiping the windshield, he followed fresh tire tracks in the snow to the road. Sam wanted to be home alone under the cover of darkness where no one could shine a light on him, where he could pretend to be invisible.
Sam put the Syracuse city lights in his rearview mirror. The fog on his windshield melted from the heater. Windswept snow across the country road forced a vice-grip on the wheel. The early storm of winter caught folks off guard.
A deer jumped from the snowy bank and darted past him. He jammed the brakes and slid sideways but still on the road. While his heart thumped hard, he looked in the rearview and watched a fawn following the doe into the woods on the other side.
"Why not," Sam said to himself. "Why not kill a mother doe. "Then I guess I could raise the fawn at home."
Sam spun his tires getting into the driveway with a motion light above the garage exposing a snowdrift on his path to the front door. Diving from the car, his weak leg nearly caved. He clung to the door, as the wind howled.
Scrambling forward, he unlocked the oak door. Sam knew he was about to cross a cold threshold. He shook the snow off his shoulders. He flipped on the light in the hall. He shook with a tremor inside searching for a way out. He had yet to fire up the furnace. He shuffled over to the fireplace in the living room, leaving puddles on the hardwood floor.
Sam's phone vibrated from his coat pocket. It was Lisa, on the night staff at the city rescue mission. He was the weekend director. They called him on the big decisions.
The text read: "Sam, we've had to turn people away from the mission back out into the storm. There're not enough beds, and you know the fire code restricts our numbers. Thought best to let you know, in case you have any ideas."
He plopped down on the couch. A picture in his mind formed. He could see homeless ones gathered around a burning barrel, taking turns warming their hands. Then Taylor stabbed his thoughts. She'd been a regular up until a month or so. She was pregnant, six months or more.
They'd lost track of Taylor. She had come close to having a haven like Vera House. Then her boyfriend shows with enough drug money for a weekly rental at a cheap motel. Sam pictured her in the alley, wet dirty blonde, fighting to stay warm, curled into a bloated ball of desperation.
Sam thumbed his cellphone with a message. "Have you seen Taylor, the abused pregnant girl?"
"Will do the rounds and find out."
Using his phone as a flashlight, Sam peeled back his coat and kicked off his wet shoes. He unfurled his soaked socks too. He stumbled over to where he had a kindling in the fireplace ready with split wood. He lit a match and then sat down, almost falling back on the couch. He rubbed his legs. Pain radiated from his hip. He dug into his pants pocket where he found a couple loose baby aspirins. He chewed away. Eyes closing in the firelight, his tensed body relaxed.
The phone rang! His heart skipped. It was the hospital!
"Hell...o"
"Sam, it's Sarah."
"Are you okay?"
"I'm...I'm okay. Just tired. My mother's spending the night with me in the hospital. Doctor told me...he told me I had to stop trying to have a baby."
"I know. Sorry. I shouldn't have..."
Sam, after I'm released tomorrow," She spoke in a weak, mousy voice. "I'm going home with mother. I need time away."
Sam sprang to the edge of the sofa. "What do you mean, time?"
"I just need space. I...I love you. But I need time away."
Sam protested. "But I can take care of you."
"So tired. I...I need to go now."
Sam plopped back. Closed his eyes. He listened to the crackle of the fire. Then the howling wind. His mind caved into sleep; the only place left to hide.
| Author Notes | As time goes on, we learn that Sam and Sarah have a special room for a baby already set aside as if frozen in time. We also learn that Sam is a night janitor at a middle school and only gets a small stipend from his weekend director job, he considers a ministry. |
By forestport12
Sam slipped into a cavernous sleep on the couch. The fireplace glowed with embers. A chill raked his bones, forcing him to curl into a ball. He shuddered asleep with his cell phone on the stand near his head.
A dream took him into the woods near his home in the country. Having abandoned his car in a ditch of snow, he limped his way back toward the house through the woods on a shortcut. But his boots sank in the snow and every step was painful. He was lost in a maze of trees, attempting to find a sign of light in a neighborhood. In the distance he heard the cry of a baby. He followed the sound until deeper into a forest, deeper into an ink of darkness. Then he realized it must have been the sound of a bobcat caught in a claw trap.
Sam's phone buzzed above his head. He snatched it from the end table. From the haze in his head, he read the message from Lisa on the night staff at the shelter. "Taylor isn't here, but I've heard from someone who saw her when dinner was served. They think she might be outside where a group have huddled together behind the building."
Sam leaned forward and looked at the time on his phone. It was 1:37 in the morning. He was relieved to have his dream interrupted. He fumbled with his boots, having left puddles on the hardwood. He stretched until it hurt, his weak leg throbbing some. On the edge of the sofa, he tugged on his boots. He dug into his coat pocket, found his car keys. As much as he wanted to wrap himself in a blanket and shut the world out, he couldn't forget about the one person who needed saving; or could it be the other way around?
Outside, the snow and wind subsided. But the cold found its way into his skin despite the fur lining of his coat. Above there were a million or so stars in the clearing skies. Below and across his yard, the crusted snow sparkled like tiny diamonds.
Stumbling to his car, he fell inside and turned the engine over. He feared a pregnant Taylor was out near the mission building, fighting to stay warm. Why was he obsessing over her? What would his wife think of him after all she'd been through? Maybe he should have prayed before he pressed the accelerator.
The moonlight bounced off the virgin snow on either side of the road as he took the narrow turns in his Subaru. From a farm hill road, he could see the silvery city lights of Syracuse. He tapped his brakes, slipping and sliding down the hill and into the plowed streets below.
He drove past the Syracuse University dome and then the hospital where his wife slept on the 3rd floor of the maternity ward. It was supposed to be a place celebrating life, the birth of his boy. Instead, he found his way down the lighted city streets to the shelter in search of a pregnant teenager. The hospital stayed in his rearview mirror until the last turn toward the mission.
Sam knew some of Taylor's background. Her single mom was raising her in a city house so many blocks away. Then the mom brought home a boyfriend who eventually abused Taylor. She decided to strike out on her own at seventeen. She found an older boyfriend to take her into his apartment where he introduced her to heroin. By the time she'd turned eighteen, he had sent her to the strip club for money. When she ended up pregnant, she could no longer help support them. She lived in a tailspin. Every time she turned to the mission for help, she'd disappear again.
As Sam approached the Rescue Mission, he could see a group of homeless people gathered around a barrel of fire, taking turns warming their hands in a vacant lot. He pulled alongside the curb in front of a car covered in snow.
He tripped along the snowy sidewalk, dragging his weaker leg along with him, until he dug for his keys and fumbled with the lock to the shelter. Beyond the beds, he could see Lisa in the lighted and locked office.
Sam stepped into the darkness with rows of people on bunks between him and the office. It was set up like a barracks, military style where he negotiated the center aisle toward Lisa. He used his phone for a flashlight to be sure he didn't trip into someone.
Sam tapped on the big security window. It surprised her. She turned from her desk and opened the door. "Sam, I didn't know you would come out. I'm sorry. I didn't want you to feel you needed to be here."
"I'm here if you need me. I just want to be sure Taylor's not out in this weather. It would be too risky to be out in this and be pregnant."
Sam, what about Ruth? Did she have the baby?"
Why did Sam think for a moment it wouldn't be on everyone's mind. He must have looked glum. "She miscarried." He didn't give her all the details, like how he held his infant son in his arms while he was still warm.
"I'm so sorry Sam. Did this just happen?" Please sit for a moment. Rest yourself. I have some paperwork you can sign."
"She's spending one night the hospital, just for observation." He wouldn't tell Lisa about his wife moving in with his mother in-law.
"Sorry, I didn't know. I wouldn't have called you earlier this evening and bothered you about the overcrowding.
Sam waved her off. "Let me sign those papers and then I'm going to have a quick look around the building for Taylor. If I find her, I will put her in a motel room myself."
"Okay." She handed him some papers on a clipboard.
Sam signed them quickly. Handed the clipboard over and stood. They hugged. "Okay, Lisa. You did the right thing. We can't take the risk of losing our permit with the city."
She nodded. Sam opened the door. Lisa locked herself in and watched Sam drag his way down the darkened center aisle.
A rush of cold air met Sam outside. He turned his collar, tucked his head and made his way around the corner where some were hunkered down along the painted brick wall.
Sam spotted what looked like someone with a pale face and dirty blonde hair, head between her knees. He limped over to her. He leaned over and poked her shoulder. It startled Sam that it was a young man with stringy blonde hair!
"Sorry," he said, as he moved down the row of people curled over on the sidewalk.
He was about to give up when around the next corner he spotted someone leaning against the wall. Her chin was tucked into her puffy coat. She lifted her head and held out her hand toward someone next to her. She took a sip from what looked like a flask.
The pain in Sam's hip radiated. The crisp cold weather only made the deformity of his weak and shorter leg hurt more. He shuffled toward her. The men who stood around the fire yards away glared. "Taylor, is that you?"
She looked at him with her pearly blues. Her knees were drawn in until the oversized coat covered her like a blanket. "Who wants to know?"
As Sam leaned in closer to be sure it was her. It prompted the guy next to her to take his flask and retreat into the shadows "Do you remember me?"
"Look, I'm not doing tricks, so get lost creep!"
It was a shock to Sam. He hadn't thought of how she could get picked up by someone wanting to pay her for a sexual favor. "No, no. I'm the assistant director of the shelter, here to check on you. See if you need a place..." He showed the badge around his neck.
"What did you have in mind?" She sank further into her coat.
"You all right Tay?" A voice came from a black man who held up a broke two by four meant for the fire.
Sam turned and put his hands up, as if to surrender. "It's not what you think. I'm a director here at the shelter. I'm trying to help."
"That right Tay?"
Taylor slid up the wall. "It's okay, he's one of the good guys, fellas."
The anger in the man's eyes cooled, and the others stopped staring.
Sam breathed a sigh. His forehead sweated in the cold "Let me get you to a hotel somewhere. I can put it on my card I use for emergencies."
Taylor shifted toward him. "You look harmless enough."
He led her with his limp down the block toward the car. "You should be careful with the baby."
Taylor stopped for a moment. "How is it you seem to know more about me than I do you? You been casing me?"
Under the streetlamp, Sam looked at her bone white complexion, sunken chin, bloodshot blue eyes. "I was told you might be outside by a staff member. You're known by us, because you are a priority. It's my job."
"Then why I am I not staying at the shelter?"
"Its full to capacity."
Taylor opened the car before Sam could reach the passenger door. She dipped inside and slid the seat back to give her and the baby in her tummy enough room.
Starting the car, Sam insisted. "I need you to put the seatbelt on. Please."
Taylor fought with it until Sam heard it click.
After several city streets, he passed by the hospital where Sam's wife slept. He turned down a service road next to the highway where a cluster of motels could be found.
"I'm hungry," she blurted out."
Sam could see she was becoming fidgety, wringing her hands. He guessed she was coming off a high from heroin or something.
"Can we eat something first?"
She may have expected Sam to pull into an all-night Diner in Syracuse. Instead, he took the road that would wind its way up the hill and into the country where he lived.
"Wait, the motels are over there?" Taylor looked like she was ready to kick the windshield out with her feet.
"Don't worry, Taylor. It's almost three in the morning. I want to take you to my house. We have plenty of room. Your own private bedroom and bath. All the food you can eat. You can look things over, and if you don't like it, I will take you to a motel. Deal?"
She seemed nervous or agitated as the city lights faded in the distance. "Sure, you're not just saying that?"
"No, no. How could you think of such a thing? My reputation is everything." Sam tightened his grip on the wheel. Blood rushed to his face. "Spend the night, and then I know a good doctor from my church I can take you to in the morning. When's the last time you had an exam for you and the baby?"
Silence fell between them. Taylor folded her arms and stared out the window at the dark woodlands and glistening snow.
"Sounds like you got this all figured out for me. You got my life planned out or something?"
"No nothing like that. Try to be open to people who care about you. I know you shouldn't trust everyone."
"If my boyfriend were here, I'd be okay. He's in New York city on business. When he gets back, I will do just fine."
Sam held his tongue. He wanted to tell her what he thought of her drug dealing boyfriend, but he didn't want to risk her freaking over it. He was having enough trouble with the nagging voice in his head telling him he just crossed an ethical line between the hospital and home.
| Author Notes |
Sam the protagonist is married to Ruth, who works part-time on weekends as assistant director at a city shelter.
Ruth is married to Sam. She lost another baby and is ready to move on, but doesn't plan to come home anytime soon. Taylor is a pregnant addict who sometimes lives on the street. |
By forestport12
Sam tightened his grip on the wheel through the dark and snowy roads to his house. Taylor sat across from him and looked over the rolling hills blanketed by snow. She seemed to be in a trance. He couldn't tell if she was lost in the view or somewhere deep in her own head. For now, he was just glad she hadn't seemed sketchy enough to jump from his moving car.
Riding in silence made Sam nervous. "Have you been a city girl your whole life?"
Taylor looked his way, while Sam gripped the wheel on the last icy bend toward home. "I took a few field trips when I was in school. Been to a pumpkin farm once. Must be fresh air out here."
"Airs not always fresh when manure gets spread to make crops grow. Wind blows just right; we duck for cover inside."
He caught a smile but couldn't get over how it betrayed her gaunt and sunken face, no doubt ravaged by drugs.
"Who's we?" she quizzed. "You haven't told me about your family. I just assumed you had a wife and kids. Don't tell me you're all alone. You're not related to Ted Bundy, are you?"
Sam's chest tightened. "I do. I mean I have a wife, no kids. She's...she's not going to be there. She's spending the night in the hospital." He worried about admitting she just had a miscarriage. How would she take it?
"Does she know I'm spending the night?"
"Too late to call her. Didn't exactly plan this out."
Taylor folded her arms. "What's wrong with her?"
Sam turned into the driveway, slicing through the snow. He turned off the car and cleared his throat. "She's going through a rough patch. She's spending the night in the hospital as a precaution."
"I get it. Some kind of breakdown. Sorry."
Sam sighed. "She had a miscarriage."
"You've been trying to have a baby? For how long? What else haven't you told me?"
It was getting cold in the car. Taylor hugged her shoulders. They're breathing fogged the windshield.
Anger surfaced in Sam's words. "It's been a long day. I held my dead infant son in my arms while my wife could not be consoled. I wanted to crawl into bed alone and pretend it was all a bad dream. I still want the world to go away. Then, I get an urgent text from the shelter. The surprising fury of the storm meant they had to turn people away."
Taylor looked riddled with guilt. "I'm sorry. I need help. I..."
Sam rubbed his hands together. "You're hungry. We're both tired. I know it sounds awkward, but I believe some things are not an accident, the timing and all. Let's go inside. There's a spare room. You are safe now, and tomorrow I will take you to the clinic."
Taylor pushed her way outside into the cold and snow, stumbling near the walkway. Sam slipped from the car and fell on ice hidden beneath the snow. Pain radiated from his twisted hip down his weak and trembling leg.
"What the heck!" Taylor cried. She fought her way around the front of the car. "Mr. Townes, you okay?"
"I'm okay." She helped him stand. He brushed the snow off and limped forward toward the front door.
Taylor watched him try to pull his uncooperative leg in front to get leverage. As he fumbled for the house keys in his coat pocket. "Seriously what's wrong? Was it an accident?"
"No. I had polio as a kid."
"Wait, I thought it was cured during the dark ages or something."
"It's unusual but happens."
"Let me help you. I may be pregnant, but my legs work."
Sam gave her the house key. She turned the key and the oak door creaked open. As she stepped inside, he leaned over and flicked on the hall light.
The light revealed a set of stairs in front. To the left was the kitchen. Taylor threw down her coat and kicked off her boots.
Taylor turned to Sam. "Seriously, you and the wife bought a two-story house in the country. You need one of those stair lifts."
"I get around. Kitchens on the left."
Taylor hurried into the kitchen. Before he could get there, he heard her rummaging in the fridge and opening cabinets.
Sam took his coat and hung it in the coat closet along with Taylor's. He sat on his bench and pulled off his rubber boots. By the time he was able to make it to the kitchen, she'd already had half a ham sandwich in her mouth.
He stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching her. "I see you found the cold cuts."
Taylor took a large bite. Then she tried to talk with a mouth full. "No dawg or cat neither?"
Sam shook his head. Taylor opened the fridge and drank milk from the glass bottle. It trickled down her mouth and over her chin. When she turned around, he couldn't help but stare at the tracks on the inside of her arms. It was a sure sign of heroin use.
Sam stood on the other side of the kitchen Island. "I need you to be honest with me. When's the last time you used drugs?"
Taylor swallowed and wiped mayo from her mouth. "How bout you go first with being honest? Why have you brought me here?"
"I'm trying to save you."
"Oh really? You're a savior? That's a jump from an assistant director. You sure you don't want my baby? Heck of a coincidence, losing a baby and finding me in one long day."
"You need to trust me. I could lose my position over this. You need to think about the baby."
Taylor grabbed the butcher knife from the block behind her on the counter. She flashed it in front of him. "I just bet you're thinking about my baby."
"What are you doing?" Sam reached for the knife. She backed away. "Put that down!"
Taylor pretended she would start an incision to her stomach. "How does it work? You lure me inside, then strap me down and cut the baby out?"
"Give me the knife!" Sam lunged for it, grabbing the knife and cutting his fingers.
Taylor's look changed. "I'm sorry." The knife clattered on the butcher block Island. She grabbed a hand towel from the stove door. "Keep pressure on it."
Tears formed in Sam's eyes. "I'm okay. He pulled away.
"Are you crying? I'm sorry."
"I care about you and the baby! Why is it so hard to trust me?"
"I know you don't think I care about the baby. I really do. I don't want to hurt my baby. I'm not a terrible person."
"I'm going to get you help. First thing, we both need rest, and I need to take you to the clinic where my friend, Dr. Reed works. He might be able to get you into a rehab hospital where you can be safe and warm."
She shuddered through the tears and spoke in a halting way. "I've tried. God knows. I've tried to be clean."
"Finish eating, and then I will show you to your room."
Sam climbed the stairs ahead of her. She came out from the kitchen and looked up at him.
Sam waved her on. "Let me show you to your room."
She took the stairs, clutching her stomach.
"Is it the baby?" He asked.
She looked as if she might lose what she ate.
Sam showed her the bathroom between her room and the master bedroom. He limped down the hall and pushed the door open to her room for the night. The moon was bright as a night light without a curtain on the window to the backyard.
Taylor's stiffened at the door. Folded her arms as if to keep her food down. She turned to him with a look of astonishment. "This is your baby room. You want me to sleep here?"
"Yes. This is a single bed against the window. We had that ready in case...well in case my wife wanted to be near our baby, if he was having a bad night."
Taylor looked the small room over, painted in blue with a toy chest and stuffed animals. There was even a carousel of the planets over the crib. She reached over pushed the button and watched the planets circle the sun, including earth.
Classical music played from the carousel. Tears pressed against Sam's eyes. The room was hard for him to look at after the latest and last miscarriage his wife endured.
Taylor looked at Sam in the half dark. "You sure about this?"
"The other spare room has been used for storage."
Taylor clutched her stomach. The bulbous shape of her stomach defied a bone thin appearance. This time when she put her hands on her stomach, she smiled. She glowed. "Come here Sam. The baby is moving."
Sam stood frozen in the doorway.
Taylor moved toward him. She took his hand and placed it on her stomach. "Feel that?"
Nervous sweat formed on his forehead. His heart raced. "I...ah yes. I can." Maybe the baby room would move her to take better care of the child, Sam hoped. She kept his hand on her stomach for a long moment.
Taylor let go of Sam's hand and hugged his neck. She whispered in his ear. "You must be an angel from heaven."
Sam backed down the hall toward his room.
Opening the door and using the moonlight, he focused on the portrait of his wife on the wall above the bed. His shoulders dipped. He shifted over to the bed, barely able to hold himself from falling. He plopped onto the bed, clothes and all. He moaned in pain from his bad leg. The room spun. He strained his neck and looked at the sliver of light in the hall. He'd forgotten to lock the door. But he was unable to fight to get up. His body went limp. He caved into sleep, as if falling into a dark well.
By forestport12
Sam woke to the sound of water running through the pipes next to his room. At first, he thought he was drowning in his dream, stuck in a well filling with rainwater. He breathed a sigh, knowing the dream wasn't real.
He strained his neck to see a sliver of light from the hallway. He'd forgotten to close and lock the door. He tried to pull himself up but was too weak from the long day. He caved back into his bed and plunged into a deep sleep.
Morning light bore into Sam's eyes until it gave him a headache, and he woke. His bad leg was still asleep. He stretched until the back of his hand touched someone beside him. He jolted from bed falling backward on the hardwood!
Sam scrambled to his feet. "What are you doing in here?"
Taylor stirred. She rubbed her eyes and refused to look his way. She hugged her pillow.
He climbed over the bed and shook her shoulders. "Hey, wake up! You're not supposed to be in here."
"You're hurting me! Stop."
"Get up!"
Taylor sat up on the edge of the bed. His wife's pajamas were large enough to slip over her pregnant stomach. "I did nothing wrong. You were sound asleep. I was afraid. The baby room creeped me out. There's graveyard in your backyard for cripe sake."
Heat rushed to Sam's face. "It came with the old house. Why am I explaining this to you? You don't understand, do you? I could be in all kinds of trouble just having you in the house, not to mention my wife."
Taylor stood, cradling the pillow in her arms. "I'll just show myself out then."
"You can't just walk miles down these roads. You won't even make it to the city."
"Yea, and it's you that took me way out here in the middle of nowhere, genius."
Sam put his hands up. "That's not what I want. I'm going to take you to Doctor Reed at the clinic. And you could have slept on the couch if you didn't like the view."
"It's Saturday," she said. "My boyfriend can take me when he gets back from New York. I called his cell last night. He's coming back soon."
"Please listen to me. This can't wait another week. Let me help you. And yes, they are open. He runs the clinic as a nonprofit. They even have a baby doctor that he can set you up with. You're endangering your life and the life of this baby."
Taylor threw the pillow down. "I'll go, but this better not be a trick to lock me away. My boyfriend will know where to find me. I'm hungry, and so is my baby."
"Ok then. Go change, and I will see you downstairs in the kitchen."
The phone on the nightstand rang as Taylor retreated toward the door. She stopped and turned, as if she needed to be curious.
Sam looked at the caller ID. It was the hospital! Sam's heart hammered inside. He looked back at Taylor and waved her on. She left the room in a huff.
Sam picked up the receiver. His thoughts in a blender. "Hello, Sarah, is that you?"
"Yes, Sam. I'm checking out of the hospital very soon. Are you okay? You sound as if you didn't get much sleep."
Sam took a deep breath. "I had a late night. I had to go to the shelter. We had an overflow situation because of the storm. There were some at risk people that needed help." He wasn't about to tell her everything that happened. He told himself his intentions were good.
"I know this isn't easy for you, Sam."
"Just come home?"
"Mother has me. I'm checking out of the hospital now. She's going to drive me over to the house to pick up some clothes."
"Your mother can stay here. We have the extra room." Once Sam said it, he wished the words could go back in his mouth. Mentioning the vacant baby room was bad timing.
A heavy silence followed.
"I don't think that's such a good idea." Said Ruth. "Doctor said, "'no more trying to have a baby."'
"I agree totally. One hundred percent." Sam watched Taylor turn the corner for the stairs, looking like her stomach could rupture from the baby inside her frail body.
"Are you going to be home?" Ruth asked.
"I...I'm meeting Dr. Reed at the clinic. It's related to someone from the shelter who needs to be seen. It's...it's a case were working on."
"I understand. You know I love you, Sam, don't you? You're the only man for me. Not having a child this way won't change how I feel. Don't beat yourself up over this. Don't put this all on you."
"You either. I will call you later. I love you beyond words."
Sam hung up the phone and listened to Taylor make her way down the stairs toward the kitchen.
Taylor shouted from the kitchen. "I'm going to scramble some eggs with bacon! Is that okay?"
As Sam ambled to the bathroom, he answered. "Yes!" He was just glad she hadn't shouted while he was on the phone with his wife. He welcomed her appetite. He knew enough about drug addiction that food can help replace the urge to get high. He just wished she hadn't called her drug dealing boyfriend.
After Sam peeled off his clothes, he could only look in the mirror and wondered who it was that stared back at him. Looking down at his deformed leg, he quickly realized his twisted body was the same. He turned on the shower, and wished he could go back to bed, maybe back in time too. "So much for going the extra mile," he said to himself under the noise of the shower. He just wanted to get Taylor out of his house and get her where she belongs.
After the shower and change of clothes, he carefully grabbed the railing of the stairs and limped his way toward the kitchen. A strong aroma of coffee lifted his nose. He breathed it in. He stood in the doorway. His stomach growled. Taylor looked content when she should be afraid of what happens next. A sonogram could reveal a baby inside her as deformed, ravaged by drugs.
Sam made his way to the coffee and poured it into his favorite mug, the one that said, "Liberty University," where he graduated, where his father was dean of the college. School on the mountain and in Virginia held some of his best memories. It was where he met Ruth, a Godly woman with blue eyes and amber hair. She could have gone out with tall men, the ones with thick, wavy hair, and that Elvis smile.
Sam couldn't believe it when Ruth accepted the first date, seemingly unphased by his handicap. College had been the first place where everyone treated him like a human, an equal.
Bacon sizzled in the frying pan and caught Sam's nose. Taylor appeared to be a good cook, but she wasn't much for putting things away and cleaning up after herself. She waited on Sam, which was a better vibe than last night when he wrestled the butcher knife from her hands.
Taylor sat on a stool across from Sam. He wanted to put her mind at ease. "You know I'm pretty sure the doctor can get you in the hospital for a few days. If you just do what's needed. Then someone at the shelter can work on paperwork to get you into a home somewhere."
Taylor swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Okay. Where are you in all this?"
"I've got to get my wife home, maybe take some time off. It doesn't look good, if I'm with you every step of the way."
Taylor shrugged her shoulders and chomped on a piece of toast. Sam bowed his head and prayed over breakfast. Then it dawned on him how he rushed through his actions last night without any prayer. Maybe he feared an answer.
He devoured his plate of eggs and bacon. He hadn't wanted to eat since last night. He wouldn't tell Taylor how relieved he was to be putting her somewhere else, especially before his wife and mother-in-law stopped by for clothes.
| Author Notes |
Sam was a very real teacher and friend of mine. I loved him beyond words. We used to play golf after classes. He'd carry his clubs with a one thin weak leg creating his limp. He was small in stature, but big in his heart. Although I dedicate this story to him, it is a work of fiction, but his presence and the heart of who he was is true to the story. His first marriage was childless. She left him. His 2nd marriage he had two beautiful children. He worked at Liberty University under his father the dean.
GENRE: Family/Suspens/Thriller |
By forestport12
The sun reflecting from the snow blinded Sam while driving through the farm country. Taylor stuck her head out the window and threw up. He couldn't afford another distraction on his way to the city clinic. He could hardly keep his eyes open enough without them watering. He didn't have to ask her if it was morning sickness when the scrambled eggs caught the side of his car. He pulled over where she opened the door and finished unloading breakfast.
Sam was relieved to make it down the winding hill and into the sooty city streets where his eyes could focus. His phone buzzed after pulling into the parking space at the clinic. A text from Doctor Reed spelled out for him to go to the front desk and let the receptionist know of the pair's arrival. The ten-story hospital loomed in the background where his wife was discharged. There was a stab to his heart that he should have been driving his wife home when he left the car. Instead, she was going to stay with her mother, indefinitely.
Taylor walked inside ahead of Sam, but she didn't look thrilled with the idea. She zipped her ratty coat up, as if she could hide her baby bump and the heroin marks on her arms. When Sam walked in, he looked over at Taylor but said nothing.
He limped over to the counter while she stood back, arms folded. A rainbow of people in all kinds of colored coats and skin tones sat in plastic chairs. Some looked like they were taking naps, others stared at the walls. They all looked like they'd been there since yesterday. There was one young brunette in jeans and a sweater in a corner with her child playing over some building blocks.
The receptionist with long nails, frizzy hair, smiled wide. "Hello. Are you Sam?"
"Yes," Sam responded. "And this is Taylor..." She walked forward. It was then he'd forgotten her last name and just left it out.
"Hi Taylor," The receptionist said. "Dr. Reed said to just knock on his door." She stood and pointed to a door on her right between the counter and all the tired folks in the waiting area.
Sam caught a glimpse of her name tag. "Thanks Abby."
Taylor followed Sam's lead until she bumped into him at the doctor's door. He looked over and detected scowls on faces who had been waiting patiently. Sam was about to knock on the door when Doctor Reed stuck his head out. He was black man in a white robe, early forties with close cropped hair and silver-grey beard.
"Sam. It's good to see you. And this is Taylor, I presume?" He ushered them into his office. "Sam has told me so much about you."
Taylor snorted a laugh, "Yea, I bet."
"You look tired, Sam." Dr. Reed studied Sam's bloodshot eyes. "How's Sarah and the baby?"
Sam looked away. "Another miscarriage. We thought..." Sam choked on his words. Tears stung his eyes. "We thought this one was going to make it. We had...had hope."
"I'm so sorry. She, I mean Sarah, is she okay?"
"She's leaving the hospital to spend time with her mother."
Sam glanced over at Taylor, folding her arms and pretending not to listen.
Dr. Reed hugged Sam. "Will you be in church tomorrow?"
"I don't want to be anywhere right now." Sam turned to leave. "Are you done with me for now. Taylor needs our help."
Dr. Reed nodded. "I will call you."
Sam turned back. "I'm sorry I snapped. I just need some rest. Do you think you can get her admitted to the hospital?"
"Yes, totally. I'm going to make some calls."
Taylor chimed. "Yea, I need a place to crash. But my boyfriend will get us a place when he gets back from New York city."
Dr. Reed seemed surprised. "Is he the father?"
"The one and only."
Sam shook his head and couldn't close the door fast enough. He held hope her boyfriend would stay clear of Taylor. As he limped toward the exit, he glanced over at the faces who looked at him as if he must have cheated the system to get Taylor in first.
He was just glad he could finally put some distance between him and the real world. He would have crawled out the door to get away. He knew the clinic would do everything they could to free her from her drug habit and get her under strict care for the baby. He also knew she had a penchant for disappearing.
Just as Sam fumbled for his key near the car, his phone buzzed. This time it was a call from his wife's cellphone. He sank into his car, closed the door, and answered.
"Hey Honey. You doing okay?"
"Well, I'm in kitchen cleaning up after a huge mess. That's not like you Sam."
"Wait, no. You shouldn't be doing anything like that. You just got out of the hospital."
"My mother's been helping me. And what's with my stretch pants?" My mother was upstairs and found them on the floor in the baby room of all places. She getting some clothes for me as well."
Sam's chest tightened. "Well, I don't know, I wanted to help find things for you to wear. I must have dropped them when I rushed you to the hospital."
"It's just weird Sam. Honestly, I never liked those. You would have had to dig deep for them."
"Okay, yes." His stomach churned. It caught him off guard. He wasn't so sure he ever lied to her before. He tried to fix it. "Actually, I was going to give it to someone who was at the shelter, along with other things you don't use."
"I guess, but you should have told me so."
"Sarah, you don't have to do this. You don't have to go to your mom's. I can take care of you."
"Don't. Don't do this to me or yourself. I need time. We need time."
She'd hung up before Sam could tell her, he loved her. At some point, he'd forgotten to breathe. He took a deep breath and exhaled, then started the engine.
One thing he knew for sure was how quickly things could spiral out of control, even with the best of intentions.
.
By forestport12
Sam couldn't wait to lock down his house and fumble upstairs to sleep away his depression. He held hope that his friend, Doctor Reed, would forget to look him up for church next morning. There was a blistering pain in his deformed leg. He figured if depression didn't keep people away, then he always had a bum leg as a default.
At the top of the stairs in his country house, vertigo added to his woes. He grabbed the banister and caught himself before falling down the stairs. He knew his wife wouldn't miss him for days. He wondered what his wife ever saw in him in the first place. His DNA wasn't worthy of having a kid. He refused to pray, because he knew anger would rise against his Lord. His faith seemed weak, much like his bad leg.
Stumbling through the door of the bedroom in his empty house, he plunged into bed, as if it was comforting quicksand. Still clutching his cellphone, he put it in silence mode, then tossed it on the end table. He could barely breath with his face buried in the smashed pillow but managed a smirk when thinking about how his wife needed to be away from him after the last miscarriage, and now he wanted sink into bed and disappear from the world.
Somehow, Sam managed not to suffocate. He couldn't remember much about curling into an embryo and dreaming about when he was tucked inside his mother's tummy. In his dream, he heard her having a conversation, as if he was in her fluid, much like the sounds you hear when swimming under water. He was close to his mother, and who wouldn't be, in his condition. He wasn't supposed to survive. He was her miracle baby. His mother knew how to move mountains with prayer.
The unspoken irony was how Sam Townes, unable to have children, and yet, himself wasn't supposed to live.
The doorbell blasted through the house like the closing bell at Junior high school where he worked as a janitor. As he bolted upright, he clutched his chest and could hardly breathe.
His eyes fluttered awake. The only thing more urgent was the need to go to the bathroom. Light was coming in through his thin curtains. The sun was shining but darkness followed his thoughts.
Stumbling into the bathroom and nearly falling from vertigo he cursed when whoever it was wouldn't take his finger off the doorbell. It was loud enough for his distant neighbor to hear it. He refused to yell and give himself away.
After surviving the bathroom, he looked down from the stairs and saw the shadow disappear, he expected to hear the motor start soon. He wanted to crawl back in bed, but he decided to find something to eat and check the time. As he fought his way down the stairs with the kitchen to his right, he could see the clock on the wall. It was 10AM! He must have slept fourteen hours into Sunday morning.
Clinging to the railing, he made it to the bottom. He listened but hadn't heard the car motor. The house was deathly quiet. Then he heard footsteps crunching behind the house on the frozen ground. His heart pinged with fear. What if it was someone trying to determine if he was home? Then he breaks in, knowing he can have his way with the place.
Sam limped over and grabbed the poker in the fireplace. He didn't own a gun. He shuffled near the sliding glass door and got himself close enough to crack a skull. A shadow formed on his back deck. Somehow, this person shoved the slide open!
Sam brought the edge of poker down just missing his head. "Doctor Reed!" Sam screamed as the doctor managed to duck.
"Smokes, Sam! Is that anyway to treat a friend. I guess it's not every day a black man shimmies open your back glass door." He smiled wide enough for Sam to see a gold tooth near his molars.
Sam dropped the fireplace poker. It clattered at his feet. "I forgot you told me you'd stop by. You should have called first."
"I called, several times. No answer. It went straight to voicemail. But you really should get that door fixed."
That's when Sam remembered he'd put the phone on silent. After rushing into the bathroom, he forgot to check his phone. "My bad. Better come in before the cold gets us both."
"Wait a second. I brought both of us coffee from Dunkin." Doctor Reed reached outside on the railing. "Here, this one is marked for you."
Sam beckoned him in and then shut the slider. "So, you are trying to get me to go to church with a cup of coffee?"
"If you don't go, then I will call my wife and tell her I can't make it. I'm not leaving you right now."
"Don't do that to Michele. She doesn't want to sit in those cold hard pews alone. Why can't I just have a break from people? I've always been faithful. Ever since we moved here and joined, we haven't missed a Sunday. You of all people should understand what I'm going through."
Doctor Reed passed the coffee to Sam where they sat down in the family room. Sam saw his reflection for a moment in the glass of the fireplace. He tried to tame his disheveled hair with his fingers, then took a sip of his coffee. His friend sat in the other chair between the couch where his perfect posture was something to envy. Sam, on the other hand, caved into his chair.
"Sam, I need to know if you have any plans beyond helping Taylor getting medical care she and the baby will need."
Sam perked from his chair. "Call it a coincidence of timing, but maybe, just maybe she's a God sent to help me get over what's happened between my wife and her loss. What's so wrong with that? And that's all there is to tell."
Doctor Reed held the coffee to his lips and sipped, then set it down on the end table. "Nothing, if you agree with me that this is a vulnerable time right now. Your judgement might be skewed, especially if your separated from your wife."
Sam couldn't recall if Doctor Reed was told she moved in with her mother. He leaned over. "You know about her being gone?"
It's obvious Sam. Let me just say this both as a doctor and a friend. "The last thing you need right now as to get too involved with a drug addicted pregnant girl."
"I'm the weekend director at the shelter. It was my job to care."
Doctor Reed put up his hands. "Yes, and you likely saved her life. You did the right thing. But I'm taking it from here. Your wife needs time, and you need time without this girl clouding your life."
"I never asked her if I could take her baby. If that's what you mean."
"Forget I mentioned it then."
What his friend didn't know was how Sam couldn't stop wondering if just maybe there could be something more. Just maybe someone like him should save the unborn child. If not him, then who? "Is Taylor, okay? Is the baby, okay?"
"Some of the testing that's been done doesn't indicate any deformities. The biggest concern right now is avoiding a premature birth and the very real consequence that the child will be born addicted to meth."
"What about Taylor?"
"She's okay, Sam. She's high maintenance in the hospital, but she's getting the initial treatment. She doesn't know it yet, but we hope to turn her over to Hutchins when released from the hospital where she can finish treatments in a locked facility to keep her off the streets."
"I just hope she doesn't bolt before then." Sam fell back into his chair. He tried not to look like his mind was heavy on Taylor and her unborn child.
"By the way, the sonogram show's she's having a boy. Baring a premature birth, the child could be born around Christmas. I will keep you updated on her progress, but please don't dive too deep after what you've been through Sam, for your sake and Ruth. Take time out for yourselves."
"Okay then. Tell me this. Are you talking to me as a doctor or friend?"
Doc leaned over his chair. "Neither. I'm talking to you as a brother of a different color."
Sam folded his arms. "Well brother, you might want to call Michelle and let her know you're going to be late for church. I'm still not moving. I'm in healing mode."
| Author Notes |
I need to confess: "I'm a schizophrenic writer. I go back and forth between my western and modern family thriller because I'm split. I love both genres and can't focus on one project.
In this story, I choose to put into the fiction true life characters to help it's realism. In fact, Doctor Reed is not a made up person, but someone who runs a remarkable clinic in Syracuse. And as mentioned before, Sam's character is taken from a friend and teacher from my college days who experienced some of what I plot through. |
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