Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series (7 page)

“You look tired.” Concern was obvious in Helene’s voice.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Serious understatement.
Every time she drifted off, she pictured her parents catching her and Lisa together. Her adrenaline had pumped and her heart had pounded so hard that it took forever to calm down enough to even try to sleep.

“Did you have a fight with Lisa?” Helene asked gently.

Sam shook her head. “No, we’re great.”
Except we can’t seem to get past second base.

“Are you nervous about the pool party tomorrow?”

Sam smiled at the thought. “No. Well, yes, but I’m not freaking out about it.”
Not yet anyway
. ”It better stop raining by tomorrow.”

“The forecast is for sun.”

“Thank God.” Sam blew out a sigh.

“I’m glad your parents gave you permission to have the party.”

“Oh, God, me, too.” Sam chuckled.

“Your mother is supervising the maids downstairs as we speak.”

“Weren’t they just here?” The maids, pool and maintenance staff, and the landscapers usually came to work at the mansion Monday through Thursday. Never on Fridays or weekends.

“She called the maids back today to get ready for your party. I think your mother is more excited about the gathering than you are.”

“I haven’t brought friends over in a while.”

“Since elementary school, if you don’t count Susie.”

“That’s true.”

“So, what’s bothering you, honey? Growing pains?”

Sam grunted and rolled her eyes. “Why does everything have to be growing pains?” She instantly regretted her flippant tone. “I’m sorry, Helene. I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I’m—” She sighed. “I don’t know. I’m anxious to get on with my life and be my own person.”

“Everyone has growing pains, Samantha Rose. It’s not reserved for the young. Ever hear of a mid-life crisis?”

“Why? Are you having one?” Sam grinned so Helene would know she was teasing. She and Helene always had an easy way of talking with each other.

“No.” Helene chuckled. “I’m illustrating a point. Everybody’s unsure or unhappy at different points in their lives.”

“Maybe that’s what it is then. Growing pains.” Sam knew it was so much more, though, and simply smiled at her nanny. Helene’s blond hair had a few hints of gray. When did that happen? Helene was thirty seven, or maybe she was thirty eight. Sam couldn’t remember, but what she did know was that Helene had lived with them since the very first day baby Samantha Rose had been brought home from the hospital. There was no smooth way to ask Helene how much longer she’d continue to live with them and be her nanny, but the question hung heavy on her mind. She stuck to her more immediate troubles.

“I love Lisa so much, but I can’t...” tell anyone. She couldn’t finish the sentence out loud. “There’s so much hiding. We never have time to be alone with each other. There’s no privacy.” Sam felt her chest tighten up again and couldn’t stop the tears.

Helene slid over on the couch and pulled Sam into a tight hug. “Shh.” Helene rocked her like she’d done steadily for the last eighteen years. “Shh,
mon petit hibou
.”

Sam let her misery flow, safe in Helene’s arms. When her well of tears ran dry, she let Helene hold her tight.

Helene spoke softly. “I remember when you were, oh, six years old, and you told me matter-of-factly you were going to marry your classmate Janet.”

Sam laughed quietly. “I remember that. First grade. Janet Baker.”

“Um hmm. You never announced these things to your parents, though.”

“I guess I knew better, even then.”

Helene nodded. “And then third grade, remember your crush on that cute little redhead?”

“McKenzie.” Sam sat up. “That didn’t last long. She borrowed some books from me and never gave them back.”

“I forgot about that. I’ve lost track of the others since then. And I’m sure there were a few you never told me about.”

Sam shrugged, but smiled sheepishly, admitting that she’d held back some crushes from her nanny over the years.

“And then you turned sixteen and developed a crush on a tall dark-haired girl from Clarksonville that, as far as I can tell, hasn’t gone away,” Helene teased.

Sam felt her cheeks get warm thinking about Lisa. Her chest tightened again, but she willed herself not to cry.

“This one’s not a simple childhood crush, is it?”

“No. It’s so unfair that I can’t tell anyone about her, about us.”

“You mean your parents.”

Sam nodded.

“Is your father letting you take your friends to the lake house?”

“I wish.” Sam shook her head. “That’s never gonna happen in a million years.” Labor Day weekend was only a week and a half away and then her senior year of high school was going to start after that. If she had any guts, she’d ask again, but when it came to pushing Gerald Payton, only fools tried it.

“And all of this has you playing the
Theme from Schindler’s List
?”

Sam nodded. “That and I seem to have forgotten how to play softball and Coach Gellar’s on my case about it.” She blinked back the tears brimming in her eyes, amazed that she had any more to shed. “I want to tell Mother and Daddy about Lisa and me, but I can’t. You know I can’t. They’ll never ever understand. They’ll send me away to get reprogrammed or something.” She smacked the armrest of the couch, but it didn’t make her feel any better.

“You’ll be eighteen in a few months. Tell them then.”

“I can’t,” Sam spat. “They’re so into their high-society image—”

“Samantha Rose, don’t be disrespectful. They’re your parents.”

“I know, but you’re the one who raised me, Helene.”

Helene looked away from Sam as if she couldn’t deny the fact that, whenever Sam was hurting, she’d run to her nanny. If Sam needed advice, she didn’t go to her parents, she went directly to Helene.

“If I told them about Lisa and me,” Sam continued, “they’d never let me see her again. They’re never going to let me be who I am.” Sam rubbed her temple at the start of a tension headache. “They want the perfect blond-haired blue-eyed Junior League debutante they can parade out for people. They don’t want a dyke for a daughter.”

Helene inhaled sharply, but didn’t respond to Sam’s harsh words. Instead, she pointed to Sam rubbing her temple. “Migraine?”

“No, thank God. Just lack of sleep.” Sam stood up. “Listen, I have to get ready to go to Lisa’s. Who knows how long they’ll let me keep going to Clarksonville.” She heard the resigned tone in her own voice.

Helene stood up and pulled Sam into a quick hug. She walked toward the door. “Promise me you won’t play Schindler’s List anymore today, especially because you were about to play
Chaconne
or
Vocalise
next. Am I right?”

Sam nodded. She never could hide anything from her nanny. “I thought you liked Rachmaninov.”

“I do, but you need to pick cheerier songs. Don’t wallow.”

“Oh, and you don’t wallow?” Sam playfully accused. “I heard Beethoven’s
Moonlight Sonata
coming out of your fingers on that piano downstairs the other day. Or how about Chopin? Which prélude is it you don’t wallow in?” Sam raised both eyebrows in an accusing, but playful expression.

“Touché,” Helene admitted. “
Prélude Number Four
.”

“Hey, let’s play
Vocalise
for Mother’s next luncheon. Accompany me on piano.”

Helene didn’t smile. “You know your mother doesn’t want me to play when the ladies are here. I’m too busy serving tea or helping Mrs. Tardelli in the kitchen.” Helene reached up and cupped Sam’s face in a nurturing gesture. “You’re a good girl.”

As Helene turned to leave, Sam said, “Don’t forget, I’m having dinner at Lisa’s bio-dad’s house tonight, so I’ll be home late.”

A frown flickered across Helene’s face. It was gone so quickly that Sam wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it. “That’ll be nice. Say hello to Lisa for me.”

“I will. Her aunts are visiting from Massachusetts.”

“Sounds like a family reunion. Drive carefully, okay?”

“I always do.”

Sam listened as Helene’s soft footsteps faded away on the carpeted hallway outside her suite. She locked up her violin and, on her way to the bathroom, paused to look out the rain splattered windows in her bedroom. Hopefully Helene’s weather prediction was right and it would be a sunny day for the pool party. She sighed and threw her blond hair into a ponytail and wondered if she and Lisa would be able to find alone time. It was hard with Lisa’s three younger siblings underfoot. Maybe they could bribe nine-year-old Lynnie to watch the kids while they snuck into Lisa’s bedroom for a few minutes.

Satisfied with her hair, she laughed at her black eye. The kids were going to love it. Her mother had a fit the day she came home with it. Sam let her parents think she’d gotten hurt in the softball game. Actually, that part was kind of true, but it wasn’t a softball that hit her. Sam’s mother wanted to yank her off the team immediately, but her father talked her out of it. Her mother placed a panicked call to Dr. Boyle to make sure. Sam laughed at the memory. What in the world did a psychiatrist know about black eyes?

Sam wondered if she should make an appointment with him to talk over her troubles. “Now that I have friends, why do things feel more hopeless than ever?” she said to her reflection as if talking to her psychiatrist directly.

Dr. Boyle would say it was because the stakes were higher; that she had more to lose. It might make sense to have an unbiased listener hear her problems. But how in the world could she tell him that she was gay? That the perfect princess was a dyke?

Dr. Boyle would probably say it was a phase. He’d say Sam was confused, and she’d grow out of the crush she had on her friend Lisa. Was that all it was? A crush? Sam shook her head. Hell no. She’d had crushes on girls her entire life. What she felt for Lisa was so much more than that.

“Screw Dr. Boyle.” Sam shoved her car keys and wallet in her pockets and headed out her bedroom door.
Psychiatrists don’t know everything
! Who was she kidding, anyway? Dr. Boyle would tell her parents she was gay. And that, above all else, was the thing to be avoided.

Sam yanked the box of books she’d collected for Lisa’s brother and sisters off her desk and stomped out of her suite, mad at herself for thinking Dr. Boyle could help her. Her parents paid him to keep perfect Samantha Rose perfect.

The Best Sound I've Ever Heard

AFTER WHAT SEEMED like two hours instead of forty five minutes, Sam pulled the Sebring into Lisa’s driveway. Maybe the trip felt longer because of the rain. Her dull headache hadn’t helped, either. At least when she was at Lisa’s she didn’t have to be in the closet or be rich debutante Samantha Rose Payton. At Lisa’s she could be herself.

With a growing smile, she popped the trunk and pulled out the box of books she’d brought for the kids. She dashed between rain drops to the front landing and rang the bell. When she heard the door open, she lifted the box to cover her face.

“I know it’s you, Sam,” Lynnie said with a laugh.

Sam lowered the box. “Wow. I can’t fool anybody in this Brown household anymore.”

Lynnie smiled and opened the screen door wide enough for Sam and the box to squeeze by. Lynnie, at age nine, was the closest to Lisa’s age, but seven years younger.

“Samtha!” A mop-haired blur raced toward her. Sam had just enough time to set the box on the floor and brace for impact from Lisa’s three-year-old sister Bridget.

Bridget slammed into Sam forcing her to take a step back. “Weesa said you were coming.”

Sam reached down and picked her up. “I wouldn’t miss a visit with my best girls and my best guy for anything in the world.” Sam smiled at Lisa’s six-year-old brother Lawrence Jr. “How’re you today, buddy?”

“Fine,” Lawrence Jr. said shyly. He reached up and grabbed the hem of Sam’s shirt since both of her hands were occupied holding Bridget.

“Excellent. Now where’s my—” Sam was about to say, “other best girl,” but then Lisa stepped out from the back room. Sam’s knees went weak the way they always did when she first saw Lisa. She had to put Bridget down when the muscles in her whole body turned to jelly. Lisa’s siblings blathered on to Sam about oatmeal with raisins that looked like dead flies, but she heard little of it. Her whole being was focused on Lisa in her tight shorts and tanned legs, her shapely shirt and her long black braid. Lisa smiled. Sam’s eyes locked on to Lisa’s pouting lips and red cheeks. Lisa must have been doing something physical because her face was flushed.

Sam swallowed around the lump growing in her throat. “Hi.”

Lisa’s smile broadened. “Hi.” She gestured at the box of books on the floor. “Books?”

Sam nodded.

“For the three musketeers?”

Sam nodded again.

“Hey, you guys?” Lisa said to her brother and sisters. “Sam brought you some books. Pull them out while she and I make lunch.”

They cheered and flew at the box. Even Lynnie, usually reserved, wasn’t shy around Sam anymore. Sam followed Lisa’s beckoning finger into the kitchen. The Brown family kitchen didn’t have a door on it, but if they snuck off to the side near the sink, they couldn’t be seen from the living room. Lynnie knew about them and was a willing accomplice keeping Bridget and Lawrence Jr. occupied to give Sam and Lisa a few minutes alone together.

Lisa leaned back against the sink and opened her arms wide. Sam flew into them in much the same way Bridget had flown at her. Sam snuggled under Lisa’s chin. Lisa was so tall, and yet their fit was perfect. Sam wanted to stay locked in the embrace forever, but then again what was she thinking? Lisa’s lips waited to be kissed.

“I couldn’t wait for you to get here,” Lisa whispered.

Sam picked her head up and looked into Lisa’s deep brown eyes, the eyes that weakened her to the core every time. She tilted her head back and their lips met. A surge of desire flashed through her. Lisa’s lips never failed to turn up the volume on Sam’s yearning. Lisa put her hand on the back of Sam’s head and pulled her impossibly closer. When Lisa moaned, Sam knew they would be in trouble if they didn’t slow down. The kids were in the next room.