Reunion
Synopsis: Alan is wrestling with feelings for his best friend after years of being a single man, while intrigue lurks behind the scenes; complicating everything. Sequel to "Think of Me". Please read and review.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Jurassic Park is property of Michael Crichton and Universal Studios. The only thing I own is my original characters. I made no money off this whatsoever and know no one connected to the films or books. The characters Samantha, Megan, Chase, Trent, Melanie, and all others not mentioned in the films or books are my own. Please R&R. I'd love to hear your thoughts!
Sam's legs felt like they had springs in them as she strode across the Missoula airport carpet pulling her roller bag behind her. She'd been away far too long from this place, too far from the rugged mountains and valleys, too far away from the fresh air and the smell of pine. Montana reminded her of her native land and it had become a second home to her. She'd been in Los Angeles across the summer months to record her upcoming release and to glimpse the blooming color of green fading into yellows and oranges on the deciduous trees made her giddy inside. Usually, she would lament the fact that she had to go to baggage claim to pick up her luggage, but he'd promised he'd be there to help her. Alan promised to be here to pick her up today and her stomach fluttered nervously at the thought. She nearly bumped into a nearby traveler.
"Oh, sorry!" She exclaimed. The traveler, a man in his twenties with dreadlocks, who looked to be an artist from her hometown shrugged her off.
"No worries. The flight from LA was long." He replied. Sam blinked and chuckled nervously in response. It truly wasn't as long a flight as the man said. A flight to her homeland from LA would have been exhausting.
"We going to baggage claim 4?" she asked. She already knew where they were to go, but she felt small talk would take the butterflies out of her stomach. The man nodded, and they proceeded to walk down the hallways along with the others. Sam remembered the last time she'd reunited for real with Alan.
***Flashback to September 6th, 2002. ***
"Welcome to my humble abode!" Alan called out as Samantha exited her SUV and headed up his drive, toting a messenger bag and a basket.
"Humble abode?! This place is gorgeous Alan."
She was dressed in a red flannel shirt, simple navy colored straight leg jeans, and the sand colored boots she wore at the dig site. The climate was still warm from the summer so there wasn't a need for too many layers.
He smiled, as she took in her surroundings. Alan loved the look of delight on her face.
His home had been a gift from his late wife Maria's family. It was a three-bedroom home the last on a lone drive in Paradise Valley, Montana. Woods were at the back of the property and plains laid in front of it with mountains surrounding it.
"I'm glad you like it." He said.
She raised a brow at his statement but lowered it when she didn't get a response.
"Well you can't beat the views out here. One of the things I love about this place."
"You don't have a bad view where you live either."
She smiled a wide smile and turned her attention to him, extending her arms and embracing him in a friendly hug, being careful to not disturb the basket she carried.
"Come on in." He said, opening the door for her. "What's that you have with you, research, or Bibles?"
"Well, in my messenger bag, both, but the basket, now this basket…" she paused for effect. "…contains nourishment and caffeine."
"Ah, Sam, you didn't have to. I wouldn't have minded cooking something."
"Toad in a hole?" she teased.
Alan laughed.
"You remember."
"How could I forget your first confusing camp breakfast?"
The dish, a large pancake of sorts with sausages throughout was an American campsite favorite, one he made the first morning of the dig out in Fort Peck Lake where she'd met him.
"I didn't want to waste what we had."
She rolled her brown eyes overdramatically.
"Cheap, cheap," she said, her voice pitched to sound like a bird. The statement reminded him of Ellie's at the dig site in Snake Water, when they debated the validity of having children. The only difference was Sam made herself sound like a songbird for comedic effect. She giggled at her own joke. Alan smiled.
He opened his front door and let her inside and closed it behind her.
"You're not the first person to say that, so I've decided to change that. I may be an old dog but I can learn new tricks."
"That's nonsense Alan, you're no dog."
"But I am old?"
"41 is not old, it's distinguished," she insisted. "And so is this place, it's beautiful, Alan."
"Thanks, it's been a long time since this place has been seen by a woman. I hope it's not too masculine."
Sam was amused by his concern and saddened by his admission that it hadn't graced the eyes of a woman in a long time. It surely deserved to be seen and lived in. This was a home, not just a house.
"It's not my typical style but it's very you Alan."
"What's your style?"
"Modern, clean lines, graphical. This is organic, masculine, warm…" she mused. She then shook her head as if coming out of a dream. "Where would you like my things?"
"Oh, let me help you." He said crossing the room and then taking her messenger bag and basket. He placed the basket in the nearby kitchen and the messenger bag by the door.
Sam looked around at the walls and noticed it was indeed a log cabin.
"It's honestly a log cabin," she said. Awe and wonder painted her tone. Alan smiled though she didn't see it.
"Oh, I think it's time for the tour." He said extending a bent elbow to her to lead her around. She blushed and let out a little laugh. Her eyes then widened as a look of realization crossed her features.
"Too formal?" he asked.
She grinned and swayed a bit in front of him, with her hand stroking her own chin.
"No, but a bit, old."
"Sorry," he said, lowering his arm to his side.
"Oh no. Don't be, I like older things, remember?" She smiled warmly.
He bent his elbow again and she linked her arm with his.
He led her on the first floor to start, leading her through the joint living space and kitchen, guest bedroom and office then onto the upstairs level where his bedroom and full bath were located. It had been built in the 1980's as a gift to him and his late wife, Maria by Amish builders. The colors in his home were warm brown wood tones, with splashes of red in the area rugs and blankets that were draped on beds and on couches. The place felt comfortable and cozy in the living area, while his bedroom looked like it was merely a place he slept in. Her eyes longed to see the fingerprints of family and friends on the house. They may have been present in the things in the house, but which ones she didn't know. There were no pictures in frames to be seen. The atmosphere of the house in general was calm and comforting, like an old church.
The phone rang downstairs and Alan excused himself to go pick it up. Sam took time to look more closely at his bedroom, again. This time looking for anything that looked like a memory, a picture, something that said another person had left their mark behind. It took only a few strides to get from one side of the room to the other. The high ceilings echoed Alan's voice as he spoke to someone downstairs. He seemed to be giving instructions of some kind to someone. Then she heard him yell her name.
"Yes?" she answered. She headed out of his room and down the stairs to meet him.
"I'm going to a friend's house down the road a bit. A young filly got away from the barn and the only one there is their kid, Anthony. He's a bit too young to get her in himself," he explained. "I'm really sorry Sam but I don't know how long this is going to take."
"Where are his parents?"
"Both at work."
"He's there alone?"
"Babysitter wasn't available. He's old enough to be alone for a while. Just didn't expect the horse to get away."
"Can he call a neighbor?"
"I am the neighbor."
"Right. I'll come with you." Sam said.
Alan's eyes widened.
"You ride?" Alan asked.
"Yeah, a bit," she answered.
"A bit meaning beginner or intermediate?"
"Intermediate, I'd say. I have a friend who teaches me once a week."
"Alright, well let's go. Anthony should be able to let us into the stable. You can back me up, or stay with Anthony, your choice."
Sam got up and took the basket she'd brought with her from the kitchen.
"I'll check with Anthony and go with you if he's alright with it."
Alan agreed and they headed out.
The house was a mile down the road. Anthony, a blond headed boy of eight stood at the fence and opened it when Alan's pickup arrived.
"Hey Tony!" Alan yelled.
"Hey Mr. Grant! Thanks for coming! My mom's going to kill me if I don't get Sienna back!"
"Can you open the stable for me?"
The boy answered by running to the stable and opening it.
Sam and Alan exited the car as Alan gave Sam instructions on what horse to lead out and where the tack was in the stable. The horses nickered as they entered the stable. It smelled of alfalfa hay, earth and a faint sweet smell that lingered in stables. The wood of the stable was well maintained and the stalls had plaques that read each horses name. The missing horse Sam observed was named Sienna. The two left behind were Cherokee and Charger.
"Hey Cherokee." Alan said to the bright-eyed chestnut paint gelding. "You and I will be going for a ride." The horse stuck his head out and nuzzled Alan's arm.
Sam smiled as he continued to calmly but hastily lead the gelding out. His voice was soft but firm leading the horse to crossties at the end of the barn. Sam was to get Charger, the bay quarter horse from his stall and get him tacked up. He quickly ran a brush over the horse's back and belly to ready it for the saddle, before returning for the saddle and bridle. Sam wasn't used to working as quickly as Alan was now. He passed Sam and picked up a heavy western saddle like it was a bag of flour.
"Be calm but firm, these horses are good on the ground and to ride, but you'll confuse them if you're not firm and consistent." Alan said. He used the tone he had used at the dig site to instruct the students. Sam took note and did as he said, working as calmly and quickly as she could to get the gelding out and tacked up. She was grateful the horse's coat had been recently groomed so she didn't have to groom his coat extensively. Horses, she knew could sense fear, and nervousness, so she did her best to assert herself gently but firmly. She proceeded cautiously around Charger's hindquarters, leaning close to the horse's body.
"Tony, where did you see Sienna last?" Alan asked. Tony, was standing next to Sam.
"Over at the south pasture. I tried to catch her but I think I spooked her because she tried to kick me. She's not quite broke with me yet."
"Ahh, alright. Does she have a halter on?"
"No. She got away from me when I took it off her to put her in her stall." The boy answered. His tone was nervous.
"That's alright Tony. Thanks for the help."
Before she knew it, Alan was up and ready to go. He turned and looked at her, obviously watching. She was struggling a bit with the bridle but Tony reached up and helped her with it.
"Charger is good but he'll hesitate if he knows you're nervous." Tony instructed.
"I am calm."
"Didn't say anything about that."
Sam was done listening so she went to the left side and mounted. She was grateful for the time she spent in the gym and her previous experience. Charger had indeed been good on the ground, staying still while she saddled him without crossties to keep him still. Merely tying his halter lead to a support beam in the barn and a few instructions from her did the trick.
"Let's go." Alan said. They rode forward at a trotting pace towards the south pasture looking for the horse.
"What color is she?" Sam asked, noticing she forgot to ask.
"Chestnut, three socks and a stripe." Alan said. Sam squinted her eyes against the afternoon sun. She looked for a few moments and then saw a flash of rusty red color in the distance.
"I think I see her over there." Sam said.
"Yeah, I think that's her. I'll put pressure on her from the right, you put in on her from the left, I'll signal you. You alright with that?"
She smiled, nodded her head and followed his lead as they broke unto a canter to close the space. Sam slowed her pace when she saw Alan did. They crept forward slowly and the filly lifted her head and looked their way but her eyes didn't show alarm. She went back to grazing.
"Who is high horse here Alan?" Sam asked. "High horse" was a term horse people used to describe the most dominant horse in a group that her friend had taught her.
"Cherokee, I believe." He said, patting the animal on the neck. "Charger is next in line. She'll likely still listen to him too."
"You should probably approach first then. If he's the high horse she'll respect him more. May stay still for us."
They rode forward. Their pace was a quick walk, Alan watched the filly's movement's and Sam watched Alan's miming him as they went. They weaved and bobbed as the filly changed movements. It was like a dance, Sam's gaze had to be locked on her partners movement as he led her. They came within reach of the filly and Alan dismounted the painted steed. Sam knew she was to block the filly's escape if she tried to bolt. He approached confidently, speaking softly to the filly, whose ears were perked, and was now watching him intently. He got within a few feet of the filly and Sam's gut tensed. The horse was about to bolt, she could feel it. Alan signaled with his hands for Sam to be ready, with a subtle tap to his leg.
Sam gave the signal to her mount to block her way in case, like she'd seen her friend do with her cutting horse. The horse changed position and intent underneath her, waiting for the signal from her to bob one way or another.
Alan approached with the halter and lead. The filly lowered her head and let Alan approach with the lead. He touched the neck of the animal with one hand and held the halter in the other, hoping he could slip the rope around its neck to capture her and lead her back.
"Hey, pretty girl. We're going to lead you back home if that's alright." Alan said softly. He continued to talk to the animal and managed to wrap the lead rope around her neck. "Come on." He said firmly to the animal. The filly startled at a sudden breeze and bolted. Sam gave the signal to her horse and Charger weaved to block the filly. The filly tried to dodge, so Sam reached her arm out to grab the lead rope and took a tumble off her steed and was all but hugging the filly from the front around her neck.
Alan saw and his mind worked quickly to work out a solution.
"Freeze Sam!" Alan yelled. "Help her Lord," he prayed. If she followed his instruction she would fare well. A metallic taste of fear rose in his mouth at the thought of what could happen if she didn't. All the filly had to do was place a well-placed kick to a vital organ or head to severely injure her or worse.
The filly seemed slightly surprised by her falling and backed up to get out of her way. Sam still held on and used the movement of the filly to get her feet under her.
"Whoa! Whoa." She said, pushing the filly backwards, applying pressure to show the filly she was the one to listen to. She had no idea why she wasn't being reared up on by the young horse but perhaps she was surprised by her falling on her. The halter hung from the lead rope, too close to the filly's hooves to be safe. The only way she was likely to get the horse to really obey was to get the halter on her or to lead her with the rope. She had to get it off the ground for both their sakes. She pulled the halter up with one hand, and applied pressure with the rope with the other. Alan was cautiously walking back to his mount in case the filly bolted again.
"Sam." Alan said lowly. "Lead her as close to Charger as you can and try and get that halter on her."
Sam shot him a dark look. He sighed and said a prayer to God that she'd figure it out.
The halter finally in her hands and the filly curious but relaxed, she positioned the halter under the nose and then slowly slipped it over the head and fastened it in place. She breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel Alan's gaze on her and hear his sigh.
"Alright, let's head back," Alan said. "You alright, Sam?"
She smiled a small smile and nodded. He had a feeling she wasn't entirely alright. She winced when she walked towards Charger.
"Sam…" he said. "What happened?"
"On second thought, I think I hurt myself."
"Should I lead the filly?"
"No, I need to walk," She said, leading the filly. "Can you lead Charger?"
"Hamstring?" he asked, after seeing her rub the back of her leg directly under her butt.
She nodded and almost doubled over. Alan was at her side as quickly as he could dismount and lead both horses to her. He searched her face and checked over the rest of her for any scratches or injuries.
"Sam, easy. It will pass, deep breaths, breathe." He instructed. There were tears forming in her eyes and her complexion was taking on a green pallor. "Are you feeling nauseous?"
She nodded.
"It's the pain, try to keep breathing. You're going to be ok. You did so well, Sam."
"Thanks. Let's walk to the stable." She ground out. Alan put a hand on her shoulder and muttered a few words under his breath. He tried to get her to stretch it but she was anxious to get moving.
They proceeded slowly, the filly walked behind Sam, who as if by some sort of magic stayed close. It was as if the three beasts knew Sam was hurt as they were compliant and gentle. Alan checked on Sam any time she changed her pace, and if it wasn't for the genuine concern in his voice and earnestness in his blue eyes Sam would have found it annoying. The pain was playing on her emotions, making her feel short tempered.
When they reached the stable, Anthony was there to meet them. Alan took the filly and put her in her stall and together they groomed and put the horses away. Sam was sidelined until she felt the pain subside.
Sam's stomach was growling by the time they were finished.
"You hungry?" she asked to the boys.
"Yeah!" Anthony yelled.
"I could eat." Alan said. He knew Sam wasn't intending on sharing a meal meant for two with three. "Picnic?" Alan suggested.
"I'd say in the house. The wind's picking up." Sam interjected. Alan's face fell but he nodded.
"I put the basket you had inside in our fridge, you left the door unlocked to the truck." Anthony said.
"Good job Tony, could you get it for us?"
"We should all go in to wash up a bit." Sam said, gesturing to the dirt and horsehair now on their clothes and skin.
"I agree." Alan said, with an odd smile on his face. He pointed to the concrete floor. "Hey, could you pick that up off the floor?"
Sam turned to where he had pointed.
"What on the floor?" she asked when she saw nothing. She went to turn back and was greeted with water shot at her. She saw it out of the corner of her eye and was able to dodge it. Alan was holding the hose they'd used to fill up the horse's water buckets, with his hands on the trigger.
"Oh, sorry, missed your boots." He said with an impish grin.
"Alan!" Sam exclaimed.
He chuckled and took aim more decisively this time. Sam tensed and braced but spoke her peace.
"Alan, don't you dare!" she demanded.
He stayed resolute, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. She raised her hands in astonishment.
"Put, it, down! I'm hungry and I really would like to not remember this as the time you soaked me at a stranger's house." Sam said.
His face dropped in acceptance and he placed the hose back.
"Alright, sorry." He said.
"Yeah, I'm sure you are." She teased. "I'm heading to the house." She strode off quicker than Alan thought she could with a formerly pulled hamstring.
"I'll come with you." Alan said, smiling. "I see you're feeling better."
Sam looked at him and her look softened. She smiled and he thought he saw color come up on her cheeks.
The two walked up the drive and to the modern farmhouse. It was painted white with navy blue shutters. Alan and Sam discarded their boots on the porch and headed inside. The house was less rustic than Alan's place, using modern elements to play off the farmhouse look. There was a cold feeling to it that made Sam miss Alan's place. True to his word the boy had gotten their basket out on the granite kitchen counter.
"Thanks for not eating everything before we got in." Sam remarked to the boy whose bright eyes were staring at the basket.
"I didn't touch anything." He said, defensively.
"It's ok, she didn't say you did." Alan reassured.
Sam mussed up his hair, and the boy laughed and pushed her hands away.
"Is she your girlfriend?" the boy asked as Sam washed her hands in the sink. She was scrubbing up to her elbows and inciting giggles from Tony.
"Oh, no, Tony. She's a friend."
"Ah, Mr. Grant. My dad says you need a girlfriend."
Sam wiped her hands on a clean kitchen towel and shot Alan a sympathetic look.
"I think it's time for lunch." Sam interjected.
The boy, forgetting all about his previous conversation, then inquired as to the basket's contents. Sam's slender hands then pulled out a cold roasted chicken with an apple and walnut salad, homemade cookies with walnuts on the top and a thermos of hot chocolate.
"What are those?" the boy asked. "I've never seen any like that before."
"They're called Afghans. My family grew up making them and I missed them, so I made them."
Alan shot her a sad smile. She averted his gaze as soon as she noticed it, as if it scared her.
"Everything looks great Sam." Alan remarked.
"No problem. Hope you like everything."
They divided the food and drink amongst themselves and ate together, answering Tony's questions as they did. He asked Sam where she was from, what the cookies were made from, and whether she bought the chicken at the store.
Alan sat at the dining table impressed by his friend's easy, laid-back way with the boy and her genuine engagement with him. He mused to himself that she'd make a good mother and that they'd made a good team earlier. The food was obviously prepared with some care and attention and he couldn't help but think she'd make a good partner. The image of them together as if this was his own family flashed in his mind and it made his chest ache. Why did Tony have to possess brown eyes like Sam and blond hair like his own mother?
"Slow down, Alan." He heard a voice in his head say. He knew that voice, the voice of ageless wisdom and reason. He pushed away the image and his body relaxed. He had a suspicion that he was being a bit obvious and Sam was guarding him against being hurt. Only time would tell whether his hunch was correct.
"Well, Tony. Are you going to be ok by yourself or should we stay here with you until someone gets home?" Alan asked.
Tony looked at the clock in the living room and frowned.
"My mom should be home in an hour."
"We can stay, Alan. It's just an hour." Sam offered. "Maybe we should, however call his mother so she doesn't wonder about your truck in the drive."
Alan nodded and he proceeded to contact the hospital where she worked and explain their situation. Sam listened as Alan seemed to be leaving a message with a co-worker, and not the boy's mother. They continued to chat and the boy asked questions.
"How'd you guys become buddies Mr. Grant?" he asked.
"Well, you know the dinosaur digs I run?"
The boy nodded. "Well, at one of those. She came to help out on the dig and learn about the origin of species, and talk about the possibility that maybe, just maybe, God caused it all."
"I bet you didn't like that very much," The boy remarked. Alan looked over at Sam whose amused smile told him she wouldn't mind him telling the story.
"Well, I didn't understand it too well. Then, we got to talking and reading research, and talking some more. I realized some questions I had, some problems that popped in when we applied other sciences to my branch of science."
"Like what?" the boy asked with inquisitive brown eyes.
"That's a good question, Tony." He considered his question. His answer would be loaded with heavy scientific terms that he knew the boy wouldn't be familiar with. "I just realized some things that science can't explain and that we needed to relook at some of the theories of the Origin of species."
"Oh, ok." Tony replied, as if he'd just told him he liked pizza with anchovies on it.
Sam snickered and excused herself to wash up their dishes. Alan joined in and the two proceeded to clean up while the boy watched TV. Sam made Alan chuckle by dancing to a jingle on a commercial like no one was watching her. Her eyes closed, her body swayed and her full lips turned up in a smile, her dark brown hair that fell to her mid back, swaying back and forth. Alan watched and only looked away when she opened her eyes again.
It wasn't long before his mother came up the drive in her sensible blue Sedan. Alan met her at the door and the group exchanged greetings and pleasantries before relating the story of the day's events. His mother, Robin, was upset at the happening's timing but was grateful for its resolution.
They left with their things in hand and began the journey back to Alan's place. The sun was lower in the sky but hadn't yet painted the sky in warm autumn color. Sam gazed out Alan's truck window, her eyes scanning the environment like she drew strength from it.
"How's your, um…"
"Hamstring?" Sam finished for Alan. "Better, like I said about five times previously."
"Well, you never know." Alan offered. A moment of silence passed. "Actually, Sam, I'm really quite glad you got out of that alright."
Sam turned her head and smiled.
"So am I." she said, "You know besides the pulled butt muscle."
Alan felt blood rush to his cheeks. Alan's laughter bubbled up in him at her candor.
"What? Did I say something funny?" Sam said with mock ignorance.
"I'm glad you came to visit Sam."
"Me too."
That's the end of this chapter! What did you think? Please R&R. Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Please no flaming or disrespectful reviews. I have a few questions for those who read. 1. Is the faith element too heavy handed? 2. Do you feel each character is acting "in character"? 3. What do you think of Sam as a character? Thanks so much for reading! I'll get the next chapter up when this gets some love and attention.