Reminiscent - Chapter 4

Sam stayed away from Steep lane for a day or two after Foyle had come home, giving him time with Andrew and space to get settled again. Their dinner of cottage pie had been a bit tense. Surprisingly, Foyle was quite chatty, telling them all he had done in America, what he had seen, and how Howard Paige had got his comeuppance thanks to some help from the FBI. Sam listened with rapt attention, and so did Andrew, despite his intention to sulk.

After dinner, Andrew walked Sam home. He didn't say much, but at her door he said, "Sorry I was…you know." He rolled his eyes.

Sam laughed, "Silly rascal." She gave him a kiss on the cheek and squeezed his arm. "See you later this week, I'm sure."

Andrew smiled, grateful that she wasn't annoyed with him. He waved goodbye and went back to Steep Lane.

Foyle was waiting, sitting in his usual chair, glass of whiskey in hand. He held up one for Andrew as the young man came through the door to the lounge. Andrew took it and smiled. Foyle raised his glass slightly. "Nice to be home, Andrew."

"Good to see you, Dad. Sorry I'm such an idiot."

Foyle laughed, "Or a rascal, apparently." He told Andrew what he had encountered when he arrived home and they both laughed at the image of Sam brandishing the frying pan.

Foyle looked thoughtful for a moment. "Do you love her, Andrew?"

Somewhat taken aback, Andrew faltered, "N-no. I mean, well…she helped me through a rough patch, Dad. She was there when I really needed someone, and well, she's just so lovely, how could I not?" He suddenly looked quite weary, as if this thought had been burdening him.

Foyle nodded, "Andrew, I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. I feel bad about that."

"Don't. We both had things we had to do, and I think we are both the better for it. I know Sam loves Adam, but she and I are better friends than we've ever been and I wouldn't change that for the world. I'm not…what she wants, and I've come to terms with that." Andrew realised he had almost said I'm not the Foyle she wants, and was glad he hadn't. But he was still curious. Cautiously he asked, "Do you?"

Foyle looked up sharply, "Andrew!"

Andrew didn't look away, but held his gaze. Foyle sighed, "Like you said, Sam is a very special young lady." He took a sip and stared at the pieces on the chessboard that Andrew and Sam had left standing earlier that day. "Sometimes it is best to think about what would be better for others, rather than for yourself."

That was no answer at all really, Andrew thought, but understood what Foyle meant. They both loved Sam in their own way, but also knew that they ultimately were not the best for her and what she wanted out of life.

Andrew nodded, "So, we should be happy with what we have, in this case her friendship and loyalty."

"Precisely."

They both sipped their drinks, minds whirling. Andrew finally caught his father's eye, and said softly, "I've always known you and she had a special relationship – you were a team and looked out for each other." He paused, "That relationship, and also the one I have with her doesn't have to change with her marriage. She's still our Sam."

Foyle nodded. Suddenly he grinned, "Andrew, I'm so glad you've got your mother's empathy and yet enough of my practicality."

Andrew laughed. "Yes, I suppose I do." He set his drink down, and asked lightheartedly, "Dad, does Sam remind you of Mum?"

Foyle put his head to one side and thought for a moment, "Yes, in a way. Same spirit – the kind that keeps one going when all seems lost. Your mum was a fighter, and so is Sam. She helped me get through the war, to be perfectly honest, just as she has been helping you. "

"We Foyles would be a bit lost without our Sam then," said Andrew, smiling. "It's good to talk, Dad. I've missed you."

Foyle felt a lump rise in his throat – it wasn't often that he and Andrew could be so forthcoming with each other, and he realised that moments like these were important and dear. He nodded and finished his drink. "I'm off to bed now, my son, it's been a long day." Foyle paused to ruffle Andrew's hair like he used to do when he was small. Andrew laughed good naturedly, "God bless, Dad, sleep well."

"You too." Foyle paused, "And Andrew – "

"Hmm."

"Congratulations on your poem." Foyle nodded at the letter that lay open on the sideboard.

Andrew smiled, nothing gets past him, does it?

Foyle drove his Riley to the little house where Sam and Adam rented rooms. He had decided, since Andrew was busy writing, he would go fishing. On the way however, he thought perhaps Sam might fancy a chat.

Foyle had to hide his amusement when Sam opened the door with a very surprised, "Mr. Foyle! What brings you here?"

You – he was very tempted to say, but instead he doffed his trilby (Sam's favourite old green one) and said, "Well I was on my way to do some fishing as Andrew is busy and thought I might say hello."

"That's very kind. Are you feeling settled back at home?"

"Yes, it is nice to be back." Foyle wondered if she was ever going to invite him in. He was curious to see where she lived now.

"I don't want to keep you from your fish, Sir, so…unless it will put you off, what if I came with you? Kill two birds with one stone, as they say."

Foyle grinned, "Get your jacket and some old shoes on, I'll wait." He was pleased at the thought of spending the morning with her, doing what he enjoyed. Andrew was less than enthusiastic about fishing, so it was nice to have someone else to share it with.

"Jolly good, Sir," said Sam with a laugh.

Foyle followed her inside and stood in lounge while Sam got her things together. It was a comfortable looking house and he thought that she and Adam had done well, finding a place to live with each other without seeming to do so. He spied his postcard on a shelf, and smiled to himself.

"All present and correct, Sir," said Sam, coming into the room.

"Right." Foyle led the way out to the car, opening the door on the driver's side and stepping back. "Fancy having a go?"

Sam grinned, "Really, Sir? Yes please!"

Foyle laughed softly, thinking it felt like old times again.

"Just like old times again, Sir," said Sam, echoing his thoughts.

They drove, Sam talking non-stop as usual, to Foyle's favourite part of the river. The cloud from the night before had been swept away by a strong wind, leaving the morning bright and crisp. The leaves were changing colour and falling. Foyle set up his gear, casting experimentally with a fly to see if the fish were biting. Sam sat near him, watching with fascination.

Foyle spoke over his shoulder, "Thank you for looking after Andrew. It has meant a lot to him, I know."

"It was my pleasure, Sir. I was glad to be able to help."

"And I should thank you for always looking after me too, during the war…" Foyle wasn't sure why he had said it, but it felt right that she should know what an impact she had made on their lives.

"Those were tough years for all of us, Sir, we helped each other through," Sam said softly. "You are a great friend, and I always appreciated the fact that you kept an eye on me and supported me."

Foyle looked uncomfortable. He didn't like having to talk openly, especially not about feelings and emotions. With Andrew was one thing, but with Sam it was more awkward.

"Mr. Foyle, what do you think of Adam." The question came out of nowhere and Foyle looked over at her in concern. Is she having second thoughts?

"I think he is someone who loves you very much and will be an equal partner to you."

Sam nodded. "Can you love more than one person at a time? I know that sounds odd, but I mean…" she faltered, unsure of how to phrase the question that had been weighing on her mind for sometime.

Foyle reeled in his line and came to sit next to her. "Andrew?" he asked softly.

Sam looked away.

Foyle bit his lip. "I think that you, Sam, have an incredible capacity to love and care for people. What you must ask yourself is what you want out of life, who can give you that, and if there is a foreseeable future with that person."

Sam nodded, and sighed, looking at the river. "I love Adam, and I believe that we will be happy together. We get along well and we support each other…but I suppose I just have such a history with you and Andrew, it is hard to forget that." She had some misgivings about Adam, but didn't mention them to Foyle. She felt they were silly, nitpickings that were just a sign of insecurity.

Foyle froze, feeling his heart thump wildly in his chest. To have Sam around all the time, as Andrew's wife or otherwise would be lovely, but he knew them both too well. "I don't see Andrew being a particularly easy husband," Foyle said slowly. He pursed his lips, thinking, "But unless Adam doesn't want you to be around Andrew or me, then I don't see why you can't still be friends and spend time with us."

Sam told Foyle what Adam had said. Your life isn't always going to be wrapped up in the Foyles. "Was he just feeling jealous, or nervous that I would break off the engagement?"

"That would make sense, Sam," Foyle conceded. He smiled suddenly, "We men can be sensitive now and then. I suspect that he just needs a bit of reassurance."

Sam slipped her arm through Foyle's and gave it a squeeze. "Thank you, Sir."

Foyle patted her hand in a friendly way. "I for one don't want to lose you."

"Me either, Sir."

They both realised how much a part of each other's lives they were. War had brought them all together, and they couldn't just walk away from such circumstances. With the knowledge that Foyle and Andrew weren't to be whisked out of her life, Sam felt more at ease. Foyle was her constant – who she looked to for guidance and reassurance. "So, will you read a lesson at our wedding then, Sir?"

Foyle smiled, "Of course." He felt his eyes go a bit misty and that familiar lump rise in his throat. I'm getting soft in my old age. He wasn't going to lose his Sam, and to see her happily settled was good – she deserved it. He made a mental note to have a serious chat with Adam later.

"Right then." Foyle stood, taking Sam's hand and leading her towards the river. "Here's the deal: if I catch the fish, you prepare it; and if you catch it, I prepare it."

"But I don't know how to fish."

Foyle smiled, "Well, I'm going to show you."

Pushing back his hat, he handed the rod to Sam and fitted a different fly. He stood behind Sam, guiding her hands, "See flick it back like that….very good, and again. That mimics an insect you see. Right, now let out a bit of the line…"

Their laughter rang out over the river, both feeling happier than they had been in a long time.

TBC