Moments Lost and Found
Read Moments Lost and Found Online
Authors: Olivia Jake
Moments
Lost and Found
By
Olivia
Jake
This
is the sequel to
In The Moment
.
To
read this series from the beginning, you can find
In The Moment
at
Amazon.com.
For
more information about Olivia Jake, and a preview of her other books, please
visit
OliviaJakeAuthor.com
Copyright ©2013 Olivia
Jake
All
Rights Reserved
For someone who had always been in control of her
own destiny, someone who never left anything to chance, Sam could have never
predicted or planned for where she suddenly found herself. Nor could she be
sure whether this was just a phase, a brief moment where Sam would enjoy the
experience, but then, once back home, revert to her old ways, leaving behind
this growth and change, dismissing it as temporary. And, given that her career
was all about communicating a given message, she was surprised that she
couldn’t find the right description for just exactly what she was experiencing.
On an almost daily basis she had to fight her instincts, and the fighting, in
and of itself, scared her. But, like most everything else that Sam experienced
with Laurent, their time together in Paris ran the gamut of emotions. As she
struggled to find answers, she realized that more than any one emotion or
description, if she had to pick a word, it would be: transformative.
So much had happened in the last week, not to
mention the last few months, that exposed Sam to new experiences and emotions,
she realized that she had done more living in that brief time than in much of
her life. Not that she was sheltered. No, she had travelled, albeit mostly for
business, typically to photoshoots around the world. She had worked with
various bigwigs in Hollywood, which always sounded far more glamorous than it
ever actually was, at least to those outside the industry. She owned her own
business, and a successful one at that. But she had a routine that rarely
varied over the years. From an early age, she knew, by and large, where her
life was going, and she had kept on that path, and by all accounts, it was a
nice path.
But when Laurent came into her life, the once
straight road evolved into twists and turns, and even had a few hairpin curves.
Sam wanted to both speed up and slow down, but she wasn’t always the one
driving.
And somehow, one of those roads led to Paris.
Granted, it was under less than ideal circumstances that brought her there, but
no matter the reason, there she was, with the man she loved, and equally
important, the man who loved her. Perhaps it was partially due to what brought
her there, Laurent’s mother suffering a massive heart attack, that made her see
things more clearly. Sam was embarrassed that it took something so horrific for
her to realize how quickly life could change. Not only that. Mme. Román’s heart
attack showed Sam that there were some things in life for which no one could
plan. Not even Sam.
So, for the first time in her adult life she took
a real, honest-to-goodness vacation. And a long one at that. Sam had never
before been out of the office for more than a few days at most, and even then
she usually checked her email and called in just to make sure everything was
running smoothly. Truth be told, there were a few days in Paris where she did
check in, looked at layouts, spots and the like. While starting to appreciate
that there was more to life than work, she still had a company to run, and was
still very much a vital part of the day-to-day. But these check-ins were at
most once or twice a week, and then Sam was able to close her laptop and leave
work behind while she took in all that Paris, Laurent and his family had to
offer.
The first week, while
Mme. Román was still in the hospital, their days consisted of spending the
mornings and early afternoons with her, and then exploring Paris for whatever
free time they weren't there or with his brother and sister's families. Sam
didn't need to be told that being with his mom was the priority. That was,
after all, why they were there in the first place.
After their first time
in France a few months earlier, Sam had already seen what a loving son Laurent was.
She had witnessed that soft side of him. But seeing him with his nieces and
nephews was something else. She knew he couldn't father any children, and she
had never asked why, she was just relieved that they didn't need to worry about
birth control. But seeing him with them, he was such a natural, she wondered if
he regretted that he couldn’t have any of his own. He clearly loved them and
the feeling was mutual. He could be silly and sweet with Juliette and Anabelle,
Phillipe's girls, and a fun overgrown boy to Charlotte's boys Nicholas and
Sabastian. She had never experienced a big family growing up, and had really
only witnessed enough poorly behaved children in the past that the idea of
'family' never held special meaning for her like it did for most women, or
really, most people. But both Charlotte and Phillipe and their respective
spouses, Michel and Beatrice, had done an amazing job so far raising their
children. These kids were great. After all the stories about helicopter parents
and precocious, snotty kids who didn't do anything but text and play video
games, Sam genuinely enjoyed her time with the extended Román family.
Most of that time spent
together revolved around dinners, which were big and loud and fun. Everyone
pitched in, in some way or another, whether it was helping cook or clean or set
the table or wrangle the kids and help the younger ones, Anabelle and
Sabastian, cut their food. The meals were long, relaxed endeavors, that were as
much about eating as they were about everyone getting together. It was a world
that Sam had never experienced. Her dinners most nights at home were takeout at
the office or a spoonful of peanut butter and a stick of string cheese before
she took care of her dogs and collapsed into bed.
Sam knew part of the appeal
could be chalked up to experiencing a different culture. Food and meals were
part of French life in a way that many Americans never understood or emulated.
Sam had been given a taste of that culture back when she waited tables for a
French restaurant during college. But it was more than just the experience of
the big, long, all-consuming meals. It was how the Románs embraced Sam, making
her feel right at home, immediately welcoming her as though she were already
part of the family. Even little Anabelle started calling her Tante Sam. She got
a kick out of both the fact that she was calling her "Aunt" as well
as this little one was the only Román who called her Sam... mostly because
Samantha was too much of a mouthful and came out like 'manta'.
One of their last nights
in Paris, after dinner, Anabelle asked if Sam would play with her and her
dolls. Of course, Sam couldn't say no, but she really had no experience playing
with dolls. She never had them when she was little, and was never around little
girls, so she was nervous she might do or say the wrong thing. Laurent saw
something flash across her face and chuckled as he came over, leaning down to
whisper in her ear, "What is it,
Cheri
?"
"I've never played
with dolls." she whispered back. "I don't know what to do…"
Laurent tried to stifle his laugh as best he could and then put both his hands
on her cheeks as he said, "Samantha, you run a multi-million dollar
company and have to present to big important, and some people even say,
difficult CEOs" he winked, "and you're afraid of a four-year-old and
her dolls?"
"Well, when you put
it like that..." she looked sheepishly at him.
"
Come on Tante
Sam! Stop talking with Oncle Laurent! Terese and Ameile need their hair done!
And then you and I need ours done too!
" Anabelle admonished Sam as
only a four year old with a lisp could.
"
Oh, ok
Anabelle! I wouldn't want to keep Terese and Ameile waiting! Come on, let's go
get their hair done!
" Sam replied with mock urgency and raised her
eyebrows defiantly at Laurent as if to say, "See, I can do this!"
Sam, apparently was
wrong. Well, that wasn't completely accurate. She could play with Anabelle, but
wasn't sure she was going to be able to live down her new hair style. Anabelle
insisted that she, Sam and the two dolls had to all have matching hairstyles,
which turned out to be braided pig tails. Anabelle started the ‘braiding’
on Sam’s hair, but Sam quickly suggested that Sam braid Anabelle and Sam’s hair
while Anabelle do the dolls, “
They don’t know me as well as you do, Anabelle.
And they might be shy with me touching their hair. Plus, this way it’s even,
you to two and I do two!
”
“
Ok, Tante
Sam!”
The little girl smiled and agreed happily. After Sam finished
Anabelle’s hair, she quickly did hers and then helped finish the dolls’. When
they came back out to join the rest of the family, Anabelle proudly exclaimed,
“Look,
maman, look Oncle Laurent, we’re all twins! Maman, can I sleep with my hair
like this, please
????”
Everyone complimented
Anabelle on how pretty she and her dolls, and of course Sam looked. Sam shot
Laurent a look and he was grinning from ear to ear. When she finally sat down
next to him, he whispered low enough so that only she could hear, “You know,
Samantha, we’re going to have to do your hair like that when we’re alone and
get you in a short little plaid skirt and knee high socks so I can live out a
Catholic school girl fantasy.” Sam flushed and playfully hit Laurent.
“
Tante Sam, why
did you hit Oncle Laurent? Was he being a bad boy?”
“
Yes, Anabelle,
your uncle sometimes is a very, very bad boy!”
Sam couldn’t help but say,
which earned a few looks from the adults. Laurent quickly got up and scooped
Anabelle into his arms, turning her upside down and throwing her over his
shoulder as she squealed with delight.
“
Now young
lady, I may be a bad boy, but you don’t want to be a bad girl, and your mother
told me it’s way past your bedtime, so off we go! After all, we don’t want
Tante Samantha to hit you
.”
She was still giggling
when she said, “
Oh, Oncle Laurent, Tante Sam wouldn’t hit me. She loves me!”
Laurent’s smile said it all as he looked back at Sam. Pride. Warmth. Love.
Sam’s heart was beating hard upon hearing this little girl, still so innocent
and sweet. Sam bit her lip as she smiled. It was all so much, so soon, and she
was getting swept away by all of them.
When they got back to their hotel that night, they
were both so tired that they didn’t notice the photographers waiting for them
as they got our of their car. The flashes went off so quickly, and they yelled
questions that Sam couldn’t quite make out, she was so surprised by it all.
Instinctively, she ducked her head and put her hand up as Laurent pulled her in
closer to her. Luckily, there were only a few guys and they got into the hotel
lobby quickly where management wouldn’t let the paparazzi.
Laurent’s grip on Sam tightened and didn’t let up
until they got into the elevator. Once they did he looked so forlorn and said,
“I am so sorry, Samantha.” Usually he would pull her into a hug and kiss her
head, or make some other comforting gesture. But once he let her go to push the
button for their floor, he went cold. His hands balled up into fists and his
mind was clearly somewhere else.
Even though Sam’s heart was pounding and her mind
running a mile a minute, the last thing he needed was to worry about her. He
had a sick mother, and after all, the photographers were interested in him, not
her. “Laurent, we knew they would eventually catch up with us. It’s just a few
photos.”
“Samantha, they’re ruthless and mean. We’ll
see what’s online and in the papers tomorrow, but we may need to change hotels.
I don’t want to worry about our every move while we’re here.” He said coldly.
The doors opened and he grabbed her hand, but there was no tenderness, it felt
more like she was his charge and it was out of duty that he led her to their
room. Once inside he walked to the sitting room as he dialed his cell and
started speaking quickly in a hushed and clearly upset tone. Sam just stood
there, frozen. She had seen many, many different sides to this man, but this
was not one of them. Through everything, he had never just turned his back to
her like this, literally and figuratively.
Sam knew there was nothing to do. Sleep was
probably a long way off, considering how jacked up her adrenaline was, so she
thought a bath might help relax her. When she walked into the bathroom she
looked in the mirror and saw her pigtails again. She had completely forgotten
that she looked like an over-grown fifth grader. Great, the photos of her in
the French papers would have her looking like this. She undid the braids and
got undressed as the tub filled. When she finally eased herself into the warm
sudsy water, her mind had far too much time on its own and her relaxing bath
was turning into a mindfucker’s playground. Only a couple hours before, she was
being lulled into Laurent’s perfect familial bliss, and now she was alone in a
tub trying to figure out what had changed. Typically, Laurent would have come
in and shared her bath, but with no sign of that happening, Sam pulled the
drain hoping the gurgling sound of the water emptying would be loud enough to
overshadow all the questions in her mind. It wasn’t.
Sam put on a Tshirt and crawled into bed. She
realized this was the first time they didn’t fall into bed together in some
romantic embrace. As much as she tried to tell herself that it wasn’t realistic
they would be so passionate every single night, up until this moment, that’s
exactly what they had been. She lay there a while, willing sleep to come.
Finally, she turned on the TV and mindlessly watched something. Eventually she
drifted off to sleep. Alone.
Laurent couldn’t even look at Samantha, much less
sleep with her that night. It was one thing for those vultures to come after
him, but it was something else entirely to have her pulled into their morass.
There were very few times in Laurent’s life where he felt guilty for anything,
so it was a foreign, uncomfortable feeling. But most of all, beyond the guilt,
it simply angered him. He could deal with the paparazzi in his own way, but
dealing with them
and
protecting Samantha from them were obviously at
odds. He knew logically that he shouldn’t take his anger at them out on her,
but in the heat of the moment, logic was nowhere to be found, just raw emotions
and open wounds ripe for the onslaught of fresh salt.