Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series (23 page)

Sam moved her chair back next to Helene’s bed. She leaned down and kissed the back of Helene’s hand. Sam sat in the chair and smiled as she picked through the pile of hand-drawn get well cards. Bridget had drawn a picture of Sam with purple hair sticking straight up in the air. Lawrence Jr. drew a couple of transformers destroying a city, and Lynnie had written a get well poem under the flowers she had drawn. They had also made cards for Helene, which was sweet because they had only met her once at a softball game.

“Hey, you guys,” Sam said. “Let’s hang these on the wall where Helene can see them.”

“Good idea,” Lisa said. Sam handed her the cards.

“Do we have any tape?” Lisa looked around the room.

“They probably have some at the nurses’ station.” Susie stood up.

“Wait, wait,” Sam said with a laugh. “Have you ever seen Helene’s purse? It’s enormous. I’ll bet she has some.” At Lisa’s doubtful expression, Sam said, “I’m serious. She keeps everything in there.”

Sam went to the cupboard on the other side of the bed and pulled out Helene’s purse.

“Oh, man,” Marlee said, “that thing could hold a bowling ball.”

“Told ya.” Sam walked back to her chair and placed the heavy bag on her lap. Rifling through it, she found what she was searching for. “Here you go.” Sam handed a roll of scotch tape to Lisa.

“That’s incredible.” Lisa shook her head in disbelief. She stood up and she, Susie, and Marlee hung the get well cards on the painted cinderblock wall.

Sam, meanwhile, stumbled upon her birth certificate in Helene’s purse that they’d needed to renew her passport. For some reason, she had never seen it before. Now was her chance. She pulled the folded certificate out of the yellowing envelope and silently read her name and date of birth.

“Phoenix,” Sam mumbled confirming her place of birth. “Gerald Fitzpatrick Payton.” She smiled at her father’s aristocratic middle name. “Helene Frances Bouchard.” In confusion, Sam’s eyes darted back over the spot where the mother’s name was supposed to be. “Helene?” Sam couldn’t make herself move. Was she reading it right? Where was her mother’s name? Sam scanned the document frantically looking for the words Miriam Lily Payton. She couldn’t find them. She went back to the entry for the mother’s name. It hadn’t changed. Helene Frances Bouchard.

Sam looked at the injured woman lying in the bed. Scenes of her life with Helene flashed through her head. Helene bandaging a scraped knee, teaching her to read music, explaining the rules of ice hockey. “Helene took care of me like a...” Sam’s vision blurred and the room got dark as she slid from the chair. The last thing she heard before she hit the floor was her own voice saying, “mother.”

Sleepdriving

THE NOISE LEVEL in the cafeteria rose steadily as students filed in for lunch. Mrs. Sherman, Sam’s fourth period ethics teacher, had let the class out early, and Sam sat alone at the lunch table she shared with Susie, Abby, and Rachel. Most of the time she bought her lunch, but she wasn’t hungry and didn’t have the strength to actually get up and navigate the lengthening line. She should have been hungry, since she hadn’t eaten anything since the day before when she’d finished Helene’s soup at the hospital. That was back when Helene was her nanny, and not her...

Sam couldn’t finish the thought. She couldn’t even think the word. It was too surreal.

“Hey,
muchacha
,” Susie tossed her paper lunch bag on the table, “how are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.”

“You scared the crap out of us yesterday.”

“Sorry.”

“
Mierda
, we turned around and you were out cold on the floor. What happened?”

“I told you; I don’t know.” Sam shrugged. “I think I freaked out about the accident and Helene being hurt.” Pick one. It won’t be the real reason, anyway.

Susie nodded. “Let me know if you feel faint again, okay,
gringa
?”

Sam smiled in spite of herself. “I will.” It was nice having friends who cared about her. While Susie got busy eating her sandwich, Sam stared back into nothingness.

The day before, when she woke up after fainting in Helene’s hospital room, she shoved the obnoxious smelling salts away from her nose. Once she’d recovered enough of her senses, she remembered. She kept her panic under wraps and assured everyone, especially Lisa, that she was okay. With relief she spotted the birth certificate under the chair and was pretty sure no one had seen it. Her friends had been too busy fussing over her. The secret was safe.

The medical staff ran Sam through some quick tests and determined that she was okay. They said her fainting probably had to do with the shock of the accident. She was in shock, but not from the accident. Later, after Lisa, Susie, and Marlee left, Sam snatched the birth certificate from under the chair and read it over and over again. No matter how long she stared at it, the information didn’t change. Sam snuck a peek at Helene, taking in her blond hair, remembering the times people said they looked like mother and daughter. Sam had always found that amusing.

Not so much anymore.

“Sam?” Susie put a gentle hand on her forearm. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Sam blinked away the disturbing thoughts.

“You had a faraway look on your face.”

“I’m okay.” Sam groaned. Ronnie was heading right for their lunch table.

“Girlfriend,” Ronnie squealed pulling her back to the present, “what happened to your face? Rumors are flying.”

“Easy, Ronnie,” Susie warned.

Ronnie, usually one for a smart comeback, stayed silent. He sat on the other side of Sam. “Seriously, Samantha Rose, what happened?”

“She was in a bad car accident on Saturday,” Susie answered before Sam could.

Abby and Rachel arrived at that moment and sat in their usual spots at the table.

“Oh, my God, Sam,” Abby said. “Susie told us you were in an accident. Are you all right?”

Sam felt so numb inside she wanted to shake her head and then go to sleep forever. Instead, she simply nodded.

“How many stitches?” Rachel asked.

“Four.”

A few of Sam’s softball teammates and people from the play came over to form a crowd around the table. Bad news travelled fast apparently.

Ronnie put a gentle hand on her forearm. “Was everyone else okay?”

Sam had been dreading that question. Flashbacks of the accident raced through her brain. The pickup crashing into them, the paramedics pulling Helene out of the car, the birth certificate telling Sam her entire life had been a lie. Her eyes filled up with tears before she could stop them.

Susie answered when Sam couldn’t. “The driver of the car has a pretty serious concussion. She’s still in the hospital.”

Sam nodded. It was all she had strength for. She stared at the edge of the graffiti-covered table top.

“Hey, everybody,” Susie said taking charge, “I think Sam needs a little room, okay? She’s still in shock from the accident.”

In less than a minute the curious onlookers gave Sam their well-wishes and moved away. Even Abby and Rachel moved to another table. Susie and Ronnie were the only ones left. Ronnie’s hand still rested on her forearm. Sam didn’t mind. Somehow it was comforting.

Once the crowd dispersed, Sam turned to Ronnie. “Can you tell Mrs. Dickens I won’t be at rehearsal this afternoon?”

“Sure,” Ronnie said. He gave her forearm a squeeze and then sat back. “Should I text you later and let you know what we worked on?”

Sam nodded and pulled out her phone. “Let me text you now, so you’ll have my number.” He rattled off his cell phone number, and she texted him a smiley face. She then saved his number in her contact list. “You can’t give my number out to anyone. Okay, Ronnie? My father will kill me.”

He nodded, and for once in his life, looked serious.

“Are you going to the hospital right after school?” Susie asked.

Sam thought about Helene laying in the hospital all by herself without family or anyone to care about her. She stood up abruptly. “No, I’m going right now.”

“Right now?” Susie looked confused. “You’re cutting classes?”

“I guess so.” Sam turned to Ronnie again. “Can you tell Mr. Auerbach why I’m missing Strings?”

“You got it.” Ronnie nodded.

“
Aay
, I don’t know, Sam,” Susie teased. “Are you sure you want to miss AP Enviro? We’re learning about the demise of Easter Island today.”

Sam smiled, knowing Susie was trying to cheer her up. “You’ll get the notes for me, right?”

“
Sí, claro
.”

Sam nodded and took a deep breath. “Thanks guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She headed toward the back door of the cafeteria, the one that led directly to the senior parking lot.

SAM PULLED INTO the hospital lot and found a spot near the entrance. She sat in her car, the engine still idling, unable to move. Memories raced through her mind. Memories of Helene teaching her how to ride a bike in the circular driveway, fixing her soup and a sandwich after her mother made her pick at her dinner, listening to Sam complain about her parents.

“Parents,” Sam said. “I have three parents.”
Daddy is my father.
Helene is my mother
. “Helene is my mother,” she said out loud testing to see how it sounded. Her brain still couldn’t make sense of it.

Sam wondered about the woman she’d been calling Mother for eighteen years. “Mother didn’t give birth to me,” she said.
Who is Mother
? Panic rose in her chest. She took several deep breaths and focused on the hood ornament of the Cadillac parked directly in front of her. After a moment, she was back under control. She had almost mastered the Payton ability to deny all emotion, but this recent twist in her life was proving too big to deny.

She looked up at the hospital building toward Helene’s window. She couldn’t do it. Knowing what she knew, she couldn’t face Helene. Not yet. Feeling lost, she closed her eyes for a moment and then pulled her cell phone out of her pocket.

Someone, presumably one of the nurses at the desk in Helene’s wing, answered on the second ring.

“Hi, this is Samantha Rose Payton. I wanted to check up on Helene Bouchard in room 305.”

“Ah, yes,” the cheery voice answered. “This is Naomi. Are you feeling better today?”

“Much better. Thanks for the smelling salts yesterday.”

“Not a problem. You gave everyone quite a scare.”

“I know. I just needed a good night’s sleep.” Sam’s shoulders tensed up at the lie. “How’s Helene today?”

“She’s making an excellent recovery. She ate most of her soup with good appetite.”

“Excellent,” Sam said. “Please tell her that I, uh, that I’m pleased.”

“Should I tell her you’re coming to visit?”

“Uh,” Sam hesitated, “I’ll surprise her later.” Sam wasn’t sure when later would be. “Thanks for your help, Naomi.”

“You’re welcome, Samantha Rose. Oops, that’s someone’s call bell. I gotta go.”

“Okay, thank you.” Sam clicked off her phone and slid it back in her pocket.

Not sure where she was headed, she pulled out of the parking space and exited the lot on a side street instead of heading directly back onto CR 62. She drove without paying much attention to where she was going. It was like she was sleepwalking.
More like sleepdriving
, she thought with a chuckle. She wasn’t asleep, but she wasn’t awake, either. She was nothing.

She couldn’t face Helene. Not yet. Helene didn’t know she knew. Her parents didn’t know she knew. How had they kept such an enormous secret for eighteen years? Thank God she had been able to avoid eye contact with her parents when she got home from the hospital the night before. She had sprinted up the stairs to her wing of the house, yelling, “Goodnight” as she went. She closed the door to her room, and in a rare move, locked both the outside door to her suite and the inside door to her bedroom. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to lock everyone and everything out or if she was trying to lock herself in. She lay on her bed and stared at the ceiling in her dark room for hours. She had obviously fallen asleep at some point during the night because her alarm woke her up for school. She had slept in her clothes.

Sam drove along in the intense quiet of the neighborhoods near the hospital. She drove until she found herself on the street where Lisa’s bio-dad William and his wife Evelyn lived.
Am I going to be calling Daddy my bio-dad from now on? Is Helene my bio-mom?
Sam groaned.

Not knowing why, she pulled into William and Evelyn’s driveway and parked her car. She headed to the front door. After one ring of the bell, Evelyn opened the door.

“Samantha Rose,” Evelyn said with surprise, “what brings you here? C’mon in.” She stepped aside to let Sam in the house. “Oh, honey, what happened to your eye?” She grimaced at Sam’s stitches.

“Car accident. I’m okay. I’m sorry to bother you, Evelyn,” Sam started. She swallowed against the lump forming in her throat. The tears she thought she had under control eased down her cheeks. She didn’t bother wiping them away.

“Oh, dear,” Evelyn said. “You’re upset. Come in, come in. Sit down.” She led the way toward the kitchen table.

Sam took one step toward the kitchen and stopped. In the car, she had ignored the familiar pressure in her neck and shoulders that signaled an impending migraine. The pressure was becoming much more insistent. “Evelyn, I’m sorry. Can I lie down for a minute? I don’t feel well.”

“Of course, dear. C’mon.” Evelyn led the way down a hallway to a sunny back bedroom. “This is the guest room. You can lie down here.” She motioned to the queen-sized bed.

As Sam sat on the bed, the pressure in her head increased. With a grunt she tried to take off her shoes. She didn’t want to ruin Evelyn’s pretty comforter.

“Here,” Evelyn said, “let me help you, poor thing.”

Sam nodded once. The energy drained out of her as the pounding in her head increased. “Do you have something for migraines?”

“I have aspirin. That’s about it.”

Sam groaned. “That won’t touch it.”

“Okay,” Evelyn said, “let me get you settled, and I’ll see what else we have.”