Chapter 21

Things were running smoothly in the Bower/Micelli household. Fall arrived in a glorious array of colours—gold, amber and bright orange leaves illuminated by a navy sky. Along with cooler temperatures, new routines, jobs, and school years began. Tony started his job at Oak Hills Elementary, teaching the fourth grade. He was in his element—being a surrogate father, instructor and coach to twenty eight children. He thrived on the challenge and sacred responsibility of teaching a roomful of nine-year olds. And they adored him in return; the symbiotic relationship between teacher and students already so strong that by the time October rolled in, the principal was declaring that he'd never seen such an enthusiastic or personable teacher. Tony was also the volunteer baseball coach, as he had been when Samantha was attending that school. Having just turned forty, Tony was thrilled with this new turn in his life. Marriage, fatherhood and a perfect career. He couldn't imagine a more ideal job for himself -the personal satisfaction he derived from teaching was as much of a thrill as hearing the sound of a baseball crack against a wooden baseball bat when he played for the Cardinals. When a student grasped new material, he felt like he'd hit a home run.

Angela continued working at her agency, spearheading new campaigns and striving to find the right balance between her work and home life. She'd settled on taking alternate Fridays off and dedicating those days off to her baby girls. Rose was walking, running and climbing. At a year and a half, she was a dauntless little creature, full of curiosity and energy. Precocious and advanced for her age, she was already speaking in short sentences and amazing the family with her considerable puzzle solving skills. At six months, Victoria was able to sit up, eat solid foods and cried considerably less than she had as an infant. Her wise golden eyes hinted at an old soul within. She was quiet and deliberate in her actions—very unlike her fearless, adventurous older sister. Their new nanny-maid, Rowena, was a no-nonsense grandmother. Tony had hired her for her considerable experience with children (she'd raised three of her own, had five grandchildren so far, and had been working as a nanny for thirty years). Rowena arrived every day at breakfast and stayed until Tony's return home from work at four-thirty. He would then take over and make dinner while looking after the girls.

The clockwork smoothness of this routine was working for everybody concerned. Jonathan was back at Harvard, living at the dorm. He was being ambitious and had stacked his course load with extra classes, hoping to begin medical school sooner. Calculus, Organic Chemistry, Biology, Physics, General Chemistry and an extra course in Abnormal Psychology (for Sam's sake) completed his jam packed curriculum. He barely had time to breathe, and he'd still have to squeeze in English at some point. On top of that, he had joined the Varsity Boxing Team. Being accepted as a boxer had given him more pride than any of his academic achievements. He was following in Tony's footsteps, standing on the formation that Tony had given him last year. The boxing gave him an idyllic outlet to punch out his academic stressors and kept him fit and strong. He'd grown yet another two inches and hit the six foot mark that summer. Being a foot taller than Sam made him chuckle-he remembered how he'd felt at fifteen when she'd punched his lights out. She'd barely be able to make a dent in him today. Towering over her now, he couldn't help but feel protective of her and wished that they weren't so far apart. He continued to worry about her and felt terrible about the tears she'd cried when he'd left.

As for Samantha herself, she was taking life more slowly. Dr. Bellows had recommended a lighter schedule, so she only took three classes and volunteered one afternoon per week at the hospital as a candy striper in the maternity ward. While stripping beds and emptying bedpans wasn't as exciting as delivering babies, she got to meet the new mothers and their babies. She was doing the best she could, studying hard and applying herself but she was chronically exhausted. Her nighttime insomnia often led to daytime drowsiness and she had developed a strong addiction to caffeine in order to combat it. Her grades were satisfactory but not wonderful, as she often dozed off during her studies. Dr. Bellows had increased her medication when she'd displayed a certain anxiety regarding Tony's full-time work schedule and Jon's departure for Boston. Sam felt lost, not knowing who she could confide in or lean on. Her dad and Jon had been her pillars, and now that Jon was a two-hour drive away and her dad was at work all day, every day, she felt bereft of support. Angela arrived home late, giving the babies most of her attention, and Mona was hardly ever home anymore.

Sam was happy for Tony but she missed him, yet felt too embarrassed to say so at her age. 'Great, I'm a twenty-year-old who needs her Daddy. Grow up, Samantha!' she chided herself. She'd been hanging out with Bonnie during the summer but now Bonnie was herself at Ridgemont College and immersed in her new friends and courses. The girls drifted apart and Samantha felt lonelier than she ever had in her entire life.

Mona was dating Reed Hamilton quite seriously. She hadn't had a steady boyfriend since Max and she was a bit gun shy after being dumped so abruptly. But she and Reed had a connection; a feeling that they'd been together forever and despite Angela's misgivings and complaints about mixing business with pleasure, Mona forged ahead with the pleasure part, not caring much about Reed's soap business. As such, she was rarely home-always staying overnight at Reed's downtown condo and practically living with him. Her presence was missed in the house, especially by Samantha, who counted Mona among her best friends and closest allies.

XXXXXXXXXXX

One late November afternoon, while at Fairfield General doing her candy striper shift, Samantha heard a man call her name.

"Samantha, you volunteer here?" She knew the voice but couldn't place it, yet felt distinctly disturbed by it. She turned around slowly, almost fearfully and gasped when she saw the man standing in front of her. Andy Baxter, Rose's biological father. Samantha felt the blood drain from her face-horrified by his mere presence.

"But you don't work at this hospital …," she remarked, sounding somewhat shocked.

"No, I don't. I'm here as a patient actually."

"Oh." Samantha didn't know what to say. Andy did look somewhat worn and aged and he'd lost weight. As though dazed, she started to walk away from him. He'd abandoned Rose but what if he changed his mind? She needed to get away from him—had had the potential to rip her family apart.

"Wait." Andy stopped her. He couldn't understand why the girl looked so shaken, nor why she was backing away from him so fearfully.

Sam stopped in her tracks as ordered, yet was desperate to get away from him.

"How's Angela?" he asked.

Sam began to sweat-the four cups of coffee she'd consumed earlier were playing havoc on her nerves and heart rate. "She's fine." Sam began to turn away again but Andy put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. "What?" she asked, indignant now.

"I …. I just need to know …. Did she have the baby?"

A full-on panic gripped Sam by the throat—its tight hold making it hard to swallow. She imagined Andy swooping in and stealing Rose away from Dad and Angela. The thought made her ill. She pulled herself up to her full height, short as it was, and jutted out her chin. Her voice strong and firm, she deliberately lied to Andy. "No, she had a miscarriage." Samantha had never told such a huge lie, ever. She felt dizzy and guilty but her protective instinct was stronger than anything and she wanted Andy gone.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Andy replied sadly.

"I'll bet you are," Sam said, angry now. "You wanted her to have an abortion. Why would you be sorry that she lost the baby?"

Andy deliberated answering the fiery-tempered brunette but decided against it. How could he tell her that he was sick and desperately needed to find a bone marrow match? His grown children weren't a match but another biological child might have given him a chance. He shook his head and began to walk away. "You wouldn't understand," he told her.

The second Andy disappeared around the bend, Samantha collapsed into the nearest seat. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably and she was struggling for breath, beginning to hyperventilate. "Deep breaths," she whispered to herself. He was gone and he'd bought her lie. She couldn't tell Dad or Angela about this, she decided. It would be her secret, her burden. She'd failed Rose once before, but never again, she vowed. She would be Rose's protector, no matter what.

Samantha's terrible secret weighed heavily upon her spirit and occupied her thoughts, prompting new fears and worries to erupt at regular intervals. She feared Andy's re-appearance, or his discovery of her lie. She worried because Rowena knew nothing about Andy nor the danger he represented. 'What if' scenarios caught her unawares, causing her heart to pound with each imagined dreadful outcome. Her fearful reflections tormented her and fuelled her insomnia to the breaking point.

Tony was quite concerned about Sam. She looked haggard and exhausted, and her grades had begun to plummet through December. With final exams just around the corner before Christmas break, he urged her to study harder, yet was reluctant to push her too hard. She had the books open in front of her, but it was obvious that her concentration was shot. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere and she appeared to be disturbed by them.

"Hey Sam, how's the studying coming along? What book do you have here? Biology?" Tony glanced at Sam's notes and textbook. "When is your Biology final?" he asked her.

Samantha slowly raised her head up from her books. "Um, Biology? On December 16th … tomorrow morning. I really have to study."

Tony looked at the calendar, then back at his daughter, and checked the calendar again just to make sure. "Honey, today is the 16th. Was the exam scheduled for this morning?"

"What?! No! Today's the 15th," Sam shouted.

"No Honey, today is the 16th. Are you sure your exam was scheduled for the 16th?" Tony put his hand on his daughter's shoulder. She looked agitated and confused. "It's okay, calm down, Samantha. You can go in tomorrow and explain to your prof that you got the dates mixed up, okay?"

"But Dad, how's that gonna look? Oh my gosh, how could I be such an idiot? I missed my exam!" she exclaimed. "I can't do this. I knew it was going to be too hard with everything else!"

"Honey, relax. You can do this—you just need to talk to your professor! Maybe Dr. Bellows can write you a note …"

"A note from a shrink, Dad? Oh great, so then the prof will know that I'm crazy … no, I can't do that."

"You're not crazy! You're just overwhelmed right now. Listen Sweetheart, go to bed and tomorrow morning, first thing, you'll ask to do a make-up test, okay?"

But Sam wasn't okay with it. She was too embarrassed to tell her professor and didn't want to get her psychiatrist involved. She flunked her Biology course and did terribly in Chemistry and Anatomy as well. On the last day of school before Christmas break, she was called into the Registrar's Office and placed on academic probation. The Dean warned her that her GPA had fallen below 1.7 and that she would only be allowed to take two credits next semester. They'd be watching her closely and if her grades didn't improve, she could face academic suspension. Samantha exited the school's building feeling detached, like a spectator in her own life. She knew she should be upset, ashamed, or horrified but she felt nothing at all. The Dean had raised his voice at her, trying to elicit a reaction but she'd merely nodded and apologized, then forgotten her books and binders on his office floor. During the drive home, she narrowly escaped an accident when she ran a red light unawares. When she finally arrived home, she went straight up to her room and didn't mention a single thing to anybody.

Christmas

It was the week before Christmas, and Tony and Angela were decorating the Christmas tree. Jonathan was due home for the holidays after his exams and Samantha had already finished school for the semester. Tony had a couple of weeks off and was still riding high from having successfully completed the first half of fourth grade. He and Angela were content—the girls were in bed, the fireplace glowed, light snow was falling outside and a Perry Como record was playing.

"It's Victoria's first Christmas!" Tony stated enthusiastically. "Check out this ornament I found for her, Angela." He held out a delicate teddy bear ornament, engraved with the words, 'Baby's First Christmas, 1992' on it. Angela gently took the ornament from him and smiled.

"Come on, let's hang it next to Rose's ornament from last year," she said. Rose's ornament was an angel with the same words, except the year, 1991. "Look at that, side by side." They finished decorating the tree, strategically placing the tinsel at the very end. "Shall we put the star on top or let the kids do it?" Angela asked. Usually the kids helped decorate the tree but with Jonathan still at Harvard and Samantha having rare plans with Bonnie, Tony and Angela had decided to spend the evening in, wrapping gifts and decorating the tree.

"I think they'll appreciate if we leave it for them," Tony replied. Traditionally, Samantha and Jonathan took turns placing the star on top, alternating years. "It's Sam's turn this year—she was in Dublin last year. We should leave it for her."

"I'm glad she went out with Bonnie tonight," Angela said. She had noticed that Sam continued to struggle with emotional issues despite her therapy and increased medication. "She really needs to have some fun. The poor girl never leaves the house except to go to school. I don't think she's made any new friends at U of Conn, Tony."

Tony shook his head. "She hasn't. And she didn't stay in touch with her Ridgemont or high school friends either … well except for Bonnie. I don't get it, Angela. I mean, when she was a young teen, she always traveled in a pack of kids. Remember?" Tony thought back to the group of girls that Samantha had clung to in Junior High, as well as the numerous boyfriends she'd had. His previously sociable and extroverted daughter now lived like a recluse. He'd practically had to force her to go see that movie with Bonnie tonight.

"I do remember. I remember how much fun she used to have, and all the activities she used to be a part of. Tony, do you think that Dr. Bellows is making any breakthroughs?" Angela was a bit perplexed. She'd found Dr. Bellows to be quite astute and she'd certainly helped the family navigate rough waters last year. But Samantha didn't seem to be getting much better. Upon starting the medication, there'd been an initial improvement and they'd all breathed a collective sigh of relief. Then one day in late November, they'd noticed her take a sharp turn for the worse. She said nothing, but her anguish was palpable. And she hardly slept, Angela knew.

"I don't know, Angela. I just don't know. But what I do know, is that I'm going to do my damned best to make this a perfect Christmas for Sam! I'm gonna spoil her rotten and remind her of the joy of the holidays." Tony meant it. He'd do anything to see his daughter smile again.

Days passed and it was Christmas Eve. Jonathan had arrived home for the holidays, to stay but one week. His full study schedule didn't permit him much time away from school. He'd spent his post-exam week at a friend's off-campus apartment, catching up on sleep and reading ahead in his textbooks. He knew that he wouldn't get much done at home, with two loud babies, an inquisitive mother, and Samantha. He'd tried to correspond with her, to reignite the letter-writing relationship they'd enjoyed a couple of years ago when he was in California. They'd grown close through those long distance letters, sharing confidences and relating as friends. But now, Samantha didn't respond to his letters and she didn't phone. Samantha had remained uncommunicative and Jon was apprehensive. Going home wasn't much of a vacation (screaming baby sisters and such) but he was desperate to see Sam. He needed to hold her in his arms.

"Who's up for Midnight Mass?" Tony asked. They'd all finished eating a simple repast of fish and pasta. The multi-coursed feast would be served on Christmas Day, with Mrs. Rossini and Al in attendance.

"Not me," Sam replied. She didn't have the heart to tell her father, but she'd lost her faith in God. Either that, or she was mad at Him because He'd made her defective; she vacillated between anger and atheism on a regular basis. Sam wasn't in the mood to sit in a crowded church, pressed in by faithful attendees. She'd feel like a phony.

"I'm with you, Sam," Mona replied. "I'm not a churchy person."

"Really, Mone—you're not a churchy person? I was kind of figuring you'd babysit." Tony chuckled before turning to Sam. "Sweetheart, Midnight Mass will be like when you were little!" Tony wanted to recreate a special childhood Christmas feel for his daughter but she merely shook her head and looked away.

"Sorry, can't babysit. I'm heading over to Reed's in about an hour, to spend the night." Mona declared. Now that Samantha had opted out of Midnight Mass, she knew that Tony and Angela wouldn't leave her to attend church. They guarded her protectively and never left her alone with the girls.

"You're not spending Christmas morning with us, Mother?" Angela asked, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

"Sorry, but Reed is spending tonight with his kids and grandkids. He wants me to himself tomorrow." Mona looked at the disappointed faces around her and decided to hold off on the news that she was permanently moving in with Reed. "Hey, but I have all of your gifts. Why don't you open them now?" Mona wanted to cheer the dour expressions off all their faces. She grabbed Samantha's hand and led her toward the Christmas tree. "You first, Sam," she said, wanting to spread some festive joy to the most miserable looking member of the group.

"Oh wait! Before she does that, Sam needs to put the star on top of the tree. We waited for her!" Angela exclaimed excitedly. She found the star and handed it to her step-daughter. "Go ahead, Sweetheart." Sam looked up at the seven foot tree and gaped. "I can't reach."

Jonathan came up behind her and easily lifted her up, relishing the feel of her tiny waist in his hands. He watched her place the star atop the tree and slowly set her upon the floor. She turned to look at him, her eyes soft and sad, then took a step away and stood beside the ornately decorated Christmas tree, oblivious to its twinkling lights and soft glow. Mona handed her a small wrapped package and motioned for her to sit down. Sam did as was expected of her and held the package in her hands, staring at it. She felt its weight and shape, unable to guess what it might hold, and not much caring anyway. "Go on, open it!" Mona said. Sam ripped open the wrapping; Mona's gift to her was a bottle of CK One, the most popular fragrance of the season. Sam had mentioned liking it and Mona had remembered. She was touched. However, she only wore Chanel No.5, her mother's fragrance. She wasn't planning on changing perfumes.

"Thank you, Mona," she said dutifully. She planned on re-gifting it to Bonnie and hoped that Mona wouldn't notice. Not that Mona was ever home anyway.

"Why don't you try some on?" Mona asked her. She was disheartened by Sam's lack of enthusiasm; she'd really thought to have hit the nail on the head with this one. Sam had told her she liked this fragrance.

"Um … um, well I'm wearing my Mom's, I mean, my perfume already. I don't want to mix them."

"Oh." Mona was disappointed but she tried to hide it. Of course she knew that Sam wore Chanel No.5. but she had hoped the girl would be open to changing it up.

"But it's great, Mona. Thank you." Sam reassured her with a smile that never reached her eyes.

"Hey, hey, why don't you hand out the rest of your gifts, Mona?" Tony began searching under the tree for presents. He found Mona's wrapped gifts and handed them out, pretending to be Santa. Much fanfare was made over the gifts; a new pink robe for Angela, a matching blue one for Tony, and some cologne for Jonathan. The babies were both asleep and would receive their gifts on Christmas Day.

"Hey Sam, do you want to open another gift tonight?" Tony asked her. When she'd been a child, he'd always let her open one present on Christmas Eve. The tradition continued. Samantha shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, Dad." He handed it to her, proud of himself. He earned a good salary teaching, and had gone all out to spoil the kids this year.

"Oh my God! Diamond earrings, Dad?" Samantha stared at her father's gift, feeling somewhat shell-shocked.

"Only the best for my little girl," Tony told her. He'd dropped five hundred dollars on the diamond studs because he'd wanted to buy Samantha real jewelry for a long time and had never been able to until now.

"But Dad …. I …." Samantha wanted to tell her father that she didn't deserve such a lavish gift. She was on academic probation, was keeping a terrible secret about her lie to Andy and had repeatedly disappointed her loved ones. She felt like a worthless failure. She wasn't worthy of diamond earrings-if her father knew the truth about her, he'd probably return the earrings to the store and kick her out again. After all, she'd deserved that punishment last year. The earrings stared back at her, sparkling in the light of the Christmas tree, scintillating, reproaching, accusing. Sam looked at them in dismay.

"Don't you like them?" Angela asked. She'd helped Tony choose the diamond studs, suggesting a modern, sleek look rather than an ornate one.

"They're beautiful," she said, closing the small velvet box. They reminded her of her failure as a daughter. Obviously her dad had no idea what a loser she was.

"Well, try them on!" Tony pressed her.

Samantha obeyed him, substituting her existing earrings for the new ones. She felt like an imposter—these earrings weren't for her. They were for the old Samantha—the girl she used to be. But now she was the seductress who had insanely stripped in the moonlight, run away and left her baby sisters alone, wimped out of pressing charges against Kevin, been placed on academic probation, and told the biggest lie of her life. Her earlobes burned from their condemnation. But she said nothing; she pasted a smile on her face and thanked her father again.

"So, are we giving Samantha our gifts tonight?" Jonathan asked. He wanted to give her his as well, hoping to cheer her up. Even diamonds hadn't done it—he knew when she was 'fake smiling'. Something was wrong and he was going to find out what it was.

"No, no, no, guys! Don't focus on me. I … I don't want …. I'll wait until tomorrow when everybody opens their presents." Samantha waved her hands in front of her face, wishing she could vanish. She bent down and began clearing the wrapping paper off the floor, balling it up tightly, squeezing it in her hands as hard as she could. Clench, rip, and crumple. The paper mutilating gave her a sense of purpose and kept her hands busy.

Jonathan was disappointed and a bit puzzled by her behavior. He knelt down beside her and helped her pick up the garbage, wondering why she was shredding it to smithereens. "You okay?" he whispered to her. She avoided his probing gaze and didn't answer him.

"Hey, you two … you're right beneath the mistletoe!" Mona announced. She loved to shake things up, especially if it would cheer up Sam. She figured a kiss from Jonathan would do the trick.

"We are," Jonathan told her. He wanted to kiss her more than anything in the world, but his mother and Tony were watching them closely and he couldn't let them see how deeply in love he was. He held out his hand and helped her stand.

"Jon?" she asked, looking deeply into his hazel eyes. She saw love there and was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. She'd missed him so much; missed his kindness and gentle affection. She moved closer to him, desperate to feel his comfort, and not caring about Dad and Angela's reaction. They already had a completely wrong impression about her—why not be herself during this one, infinitesimal moment under the mistletoe? She leaned in toward him, their noses touched, profiles silhouetted by the tree lights. Ever so slowly, she made to press her lips against his—he wanted her so badly and was mesmerized by her beauty. But in those final seconds, he remembered their parents' watchful gaze. He abruptly turned his face away, so that her kiss landed awkwardly on his jaw. Sam looked down—he was rejecting her, just as he had during the summer. She knew that he didn't want to be with her anymore—that her craziness was too much for him to deal with. With tears in her eyes, she blindly left the living room and headed upstairs to bed.

"Sam! Wait!" Jon cried out to her retreating back.

Tony began heading for the stairs. "I'll go see if she's alright," he said.

"Tony, mind if I go? I think I hurt her feelings just now," Jon admitted ruefully.

"But why? Why would not kissing her hurt her feelings?" Angela asked. "Is there something going on between you two again?"

"No Mom. We've been keeping it platonic. But that doesn't change how we feel about each other. You guys should understand that; having wasted seven years."

Before his mom could respond to his snarky comment, Jon headed upstairs. He paused at the landing, unsure of what to say to Samantha. Could he tell her that he'd wanted to kiss her? Should he kiss her now? Should he remind her of her therapy? No, that one probably wasn't a good idea. Maybe he'd just play it by ear. He lightly knocked on her door and let himself in when she didn't reply.

"I didn't say you could come in," she said. Embarrassed to be seen crying, she hastily wiped at her tears with her bed sheet, the only thing within reach.

"Boo? I'm sorry. I'm sorry about what happened downstairs."

"It's fine. Could you go away now?" Sam turned away from him.

"No, it's not fine. Dammit Sam, I wanted to kiss you! I wanted to kiss you so badly but they were staring at us."

"You did? Really?" she turned to him. "Because I understand if you don't want to. I'm such a f***-up right now. Who'd want to be involved with me?"

"What? No, you're not! Samantha, how can you even think that?" Jon was horrified. "You're only going through a difficult time, and you're doing the best you can. You're getting help and going to school and volunteering—you're not f***-up!"

"Yes, I am!" she cried. "You just don't know about …" she stopped and clamped her mouth shut.

"Tell me," he said. "What don't I know about?" Jon moved over to the bed where she sat and cupped her face in his hands, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "Talk to me, Boo. Just talk to me. Hey, I'm your best friend, remember?"

Samantha stood up and moved to her window. "I'm on academic probation," she confessed. "I missed an exam and got straight D's. If I don't get my act together, I face suspension." Sam felt so ashamed and stupid, especially admitting this to Jon, who was getting straight A's at Harvard. But she also knew he wouldn't judge her. And getting it off her chest gave her some measure of relief.

"Boo? I can help you with your courses. Will you let me?" He tentatively put his hands on her shoulders, then slid them down her arms. She turned around to face him. "I'm beyond help, Jon."

"No, no, you're not. You did fine last year. You can do it—maybe you just need help concentrating."

"Yeah, I can't concentrate. Especially since … Andy." If Jon was going to be her confessor, she might as well get it all out in the open. He didn't want to be with her anyway, so she figured she had nothing to lose.

"Andy? As in, Rose's biological father, Andy?" Jon asked, stunned. "What about him?"

"I ran into him. He asked if your mom had had the baby. Jon, I lied. I told him that she'd had a miscarriage! I didn't know what else to do—I was so scared he'd come for Rose and try to take her away."

"Oh my god!" Jon gathered his thoughts for a moment. Sam was agitated and she was wearing such a guilty expression on her face—he felt terrible for her.

"You did the right thing," he declared. "I would have done the same."

"Really? You don't think I went too far? I mean, that is his kid!"

"No, she's not his. She's Tony's! Andy wanted my mom to have an abortion. As far as I'm concerned, he has no right to Rose now. If he were to show up and complicate things, it would be a nightmare. Sam, you didn't do anything wrong. You made a difficult call and you did the right thing."

"You think?" Sam exhaled in relief. "You don't think I'm a terrible person?"

"You were only protecting Rose—I think you're an amazing person." He reassured her, then pulled her into a tight hug. Able to share the burden of her terrible secrets, Sam was finally able to relax. She felt safe in Jon's arms and snuggled against him. The scratchy wool of his sweater tickled her cheek but she didn't care—she wanted to disappear into him. They held each other until Jon had to move back—the hug was becoming a bit too arousing for him-a fact that wasn't lost on Sam. She looked down at his jeans, then back up at his face.

"You're still attracted to me?"

"You have to ask that? Are you kidding me? Sam, I … I want you all the time. The only reason I'm holding back is because of what we promised Dr. Bellows and for your therapy."

"Yeah? Well screw Dr. Bellows. She's not helping me much anyway." Sam neglected to mention that she barely told anything to Dr. Bellows, and that her therapy sessions stressed her out because of all the secrets she was keeping from her shrink. What was one more?

"I'd rather scr….never mind," he joked, a smile playing on his lips. He stroked her hair and placed a light kiss on her forehead.

"You missed," she teased him. "We can't seem to get this right. First, under the mistletoe, and now …. How about a do-over?"

She brought her face up to his and waited. His lips crashed onto hers over and over again. This time, he was in control, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw and her neck. The sublimated desire was too much for them. They fell onto the bed, still kissing and holding each other. Sam didn't hesitate; she pulled at his scratchy sweater, then at his undershirt, forcing them up, and over his head. He desired her and for the first time in months, she felt worthy of love again.

"Boxing seems to have done wonders for your physique," she told him, before plunging her lips onto his chest.

"Sam … Sam? If we don't stop now, I'm not going to be able to", he half-heartedly warned her.

"Don't stop. Stay." She needed his love, needed to feel cherished and alive again.

"They're downstairs," he reminded her, though at this point, his body was too far gone. He pulled at her stockings and panties, then pushed up her skirt. Her white thighs parted for him.

"Quickly, hurry!" she told him. "Before they come looking for us."

They desperately succumbed to their desire, frantic with passion and need, no longer caring that Tony and Angela were downstairs.

Downstairs, Tony and Angela were tidying up and getting ready for bed.

"Did you hear that?" Tony asked. He wondered if Rose or Victoria might be crying.

Angela, ever attuned to her babies (as every mother is), shook her head. "No, it wasn't the babies. But I heard something too."

"Is Jon still upstairs?" Tony asked, the first prickling of anxiety teasing the edge of his consciousness.

Angela gaped at him. They slowly made their way to the staircase and took a few steps up just as Sam cried out rather loudly. The unmistakable sound of ecstasy was impossible to ignore.

"I'm gonna kill them!" Tony yelled.

"No, Tony, stop!" Angela grabbed his arm and held him tightly. "You can't go in there …. Not when they're having … what they're having!" Angela sat down on the stair, suddenly feeling a bit faint. She'd been hoping not to have to revisit this issue for three more years.

"Angela, what are going to do?" Tony banged his fist on the wooden bannister. "I can't believe they'd do this to us-it's so disrespectful! The nerve of those two-five minutes alone and wham?!"

"They're not doing it to us," Angela replied sardonically. Tony's apoplectic reaction was a bit humorous. "What we're going to do is to leave them alone. We can talk to them about it tomorrow, but there's no way I'm going into that bedroom. They are older now, Tony. Jonathan's going to be eighteen in only a few short months, and Sam will be twenty-one. We can't always tell them what to do!"

"But they promised three more years," Tony protested. He was still in shock from hearing his daughter's passion-filled cries.

"Tony, you and I managed to stay apart for seven stupid years. But I desired you-terribly! I have no idea how we didn't end up in bed sooner. Maybe we had super-human abilities that other couples in love don't have."

"We were responsible, Angela. They're breaking house rules!" Tony still couldn't calm down, despite Angela's best efforts.

"Tony, it's Christmas. Just let them have it, this once. You can ream into them later, okay?"

"Oh, you bet I'm gonna ream into them! Sheesh, some Christmas, Angela! I can't believe …"

Angela pressed her lips against his to shut him up. "It's okay, Tony. It's okay. Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."

"Hmf. Yeah, Merry Christmas, Angela."