Chapter 3

The only thing I can do is smile. I have to smile for Sam, even if I need to cry, I have to smile. I feel guilty about keeping this from him, but there aren't any adequate words to express to Sam that he will never see James again. Samuel still believes that his father is coming home for Christmas. How do I tell my son that his father is never coming home? How do I tell Samuel that his best friend and biggest fan is dead?

I am expecting Jane in half an hour. I will tell her about James, my deceased husband, in half an hour. Shit. Right now, my focus should be on Sam and getting him to bed, but my mind keeps wandering to Jane. I am nervous and afraid to tell her my secret. I'm terrified of her reaction to the news...I really cannot handle Jane crying. I need Jane to be strong for me.

Samuel dresses himself in the pajamas I have laid out for him across his bed. He is always so sweet and cooperative after his nightly baths. My little man is growing up so quickly...I want to be happy with his progress but in all honesty, it depresses me. I don't want him to grow up and leave me. Samuel Galen Isles is my entire world.

I help Sam brush his damp hair and he climbs up into his entirely too big twin bed. He scoots over and softly pats the area next to him, signaling for me to join him. I grab The Wonderful Wizard of Oz off of Samuel's nightstand and lay down next to him. I have read to Sam every night since he was born and he loves it. I love it too.

I open the book to chapter 4, where we left off last night. Sam's damp hair is cold on my cheek, but it doesn't bother me and his freezing little feet find their way under my thigh. This is our nightly ritual. Knowing that I get to come home and cuddle up to Sam is the only thing that gets me through each day. I read the chapter to him animatedly and he giggles innocently at the fluctuation in my voice. Little fingers twirl their way in my hair and pull at the stitching of my shirt. He focuses intently on the book and frequently asks me questions.

I finish reading and close the book quietly. Samuel always falls asleep before I finish reading. The steady rise and fall of his chest is so very comforting. I remove his small fingers from my hair and kiss the smooth skin of his forehead. Gently, I pull his blanket over him and run my fingers through his strawberry blonde locks.

I turn the ceiling light off and switch on the small lantern sitting atop his dresser. Samuel made me promise that I would keep the light on incase James were to come home during the night. My eyes dance over Sam's beautiful face and I am so undeniably in awe of his peacefulness. "I love you, Sam." I whisper into his dimly lit room as I ease his bedroom door closed.

A light knock at the front door signifies Jane's timely arrival. Picking up the wet towel Sam must have left in the hall, I stride to the front door. Surprising enough, I am comforted by the normalcy of Samuel's defiant laziness. My son has his father's fire and tenacity. I know that I can't do this alone...

Before I even realize what I'm doing I wrap my arms around Jane's torso. I drop the towel onto the ground and clench onto Jane's blazer. Breaths escape my chest in gasps and tears fall angrily down my cheeks. Samuel needs a father. Samuel needs James. I need James...

"Whoa! Hey...look at me!" Jane places firm hands on my upper arms, steadying me. I back away from her, suddenly aware of my behavior and rightfully embarrassed by it. My hands reluctantly fall to my sides and I look at Jane through thick tears. She keeps a firm grasp on my arms and studies my face warily. Don't look at me that way...

"I'm sorry...I don't know what came over me, Jane." I carelessly wipe shaky hands over my damp cheeks. Jane wraps her long arms around my shoulders and I stand there crying softly in the doorway. She makes soothing "shh" sounds and holds me close to her. Jane is not an affectionate person, so I know she is genuinely concerned.

After a couple of minutes, we separate and Jane comes inside. I haven't told her anything yet and I'm a complete mess. I pour myself a glass of fine Pinot Grigio and Jane uncaps a beer for herself. Reading each other's body language, we make our way to the couch silently. I don't want to be vulnerable, but I trust Jane. I have no one else. I have Jane and I have Sam.

"Jane...I don't really know how to do this so please be patient. I'm under a lot of pressure and my emotions are out of sorts...and when I tell you this, I just...Jane, I need you to be strong for me. Please don't cry..." I know I'm being selfish and unreasonable but if anyone will understand, it will be Jane. She places her hand over mine, letting me know she's here. Jane doesn't know how much it means to me that she's here and being receptive, but I do.

"I'll do my best, Maur, but I gotta let you know that I'm starting to get really worried...You're acting like someone died." Jane rubs her thumb on the back of my hand. I let her words sink in for a moment before responding. They cut and weave their way around every mental wall I've constructed thus far. I feel the air escape my lungs and I flounder to catch my breath.

I open my mouth to speak, but Jane's eyes dart up to meet mine. Her eyebrows pinch together with horror and she squeezes my hand tightly. I try desperately to repair the damage caused by Jane's remark, but to no avail. Everything hurts.

"Oh...Maura..." Jane whispers and realization spreads over her angled features. I swallow hard and try to fight back the tears that sting my eyes. I shake my head, willing myself to keep some composure. Grief overwhelms me and I can no longer stave off the blundering wound that Jane's words left.

"He's gone...Jane, he's gone..." The pain is too much for me to handle. My husband is dead. I hang my head and sob, letting the tears fall where they may. This is a conversation that no one should ever be forced to have. I allow myself to completely break down, even in the presence of Jane.

"Oh, babe...Come here..." Jane scoots closer to me and I wrap my arms around her neck. She rubs gentle circles on my back and cries along with me. At this point, I am glad for the company. For over a month, I have been sobbing alone and secretively. Having someone to cry with is the best form of therapy for me. I ball up a fist full of Jane's blazer and hide my face in her wild hair.

I'm unsure how long we sit here and cry but it is long enough for my muscles to grow stiff with inactivity. I break our lingering embrace and eagerly down my glass of wine. Anything to dull the constant pain. I pour myself another glass and raise it to my lips desperately trying to escape my reality. This method has worked in past emotional crisis.

"Maura, stop." Jane grabs my wrist, pulling the glass away from my mouth. I glare at her angrily and her eyes narrow sternly. Usually, I would listen to Jane, but not tonight. Tonight, I need Jane to be on my side. Intellectual, reserved Maura has gone into hibernation for the night. Reckless, selfish Maura is ready to drown her sorrows in alcohol. I am emotionally spent and I need a punching bag.

"You have no idea what I'm going through, Jane! Don't you dare tell me what I can and cannot do! My husband is dead, Jane, dead! My son no longer has a father and he doesn't hold the slightest bit of suspicion! How do I tell Sam that his father died?" I raise my voice unsteadily at her, mouth quivering with every word. Jane looks taken aback and shocked at my outburst. I immediately feel horrible for taking my frustrations and grief out on her.

"Look, Maura, I'm sorry...No, I don't know what you're going through, but only because you haven't told me. All I'm saying is...pace yourself, okay?" Jane holds my hand in hers and the physical contact soothes me. I am overwhelmed with Jane's ability to remain levelheaded and kind in nearly any situation. I deserve a swift kick in the rear for the way I've just spoken to her…

"Promise me you won't leave me, Jane. I need you..." I am nearly inaudible through my weeping. I collapse pathetically into Jane's arms once again. "Please stay tonight, Jane." My voice is muffled by Jane's shoulder. She smells like the inside of a coffee pot and cheap vanilla body spray. The fragrance is oddly soothing and I inhale deeply.

"I promise, Maur, I promise." Jane's raspy voice whispers into my ear as she holds back tears. My heart beats rapidly and butterflies dance inside of my stomach. I never noticed the way Jane's lips move when she speaks. I am drawn to their feminine softness like a moth to flame. Surely, this is the alcohol placing proud thoughts in my head. I don't really desire to kiss Jane...do I? Will this fire burn me?