Warnings: Language, oppression, joy...life.
How lovely to be a woman, the wait was well worth while;
How lovely to wear mascara and smile a woman's smile.
How lovely to be a woman and have one job to do;
How wonderful to know the things a woman knows;
How Lovely to be a Woman, Bye Bye Birdie
Weeks Later...
Sam looked at the girl in the mirror, her wet hair sticking to the nape of her neck. The scar on her head stuck out now, in a way that it didn't when her hair was dry and frizzy. Sam plugged in the blow dryer and the hot iron and waited. She knew that this was the right move, even though it had come to her suddenly. Her phone buzzed with a text from Jen, "Be there soon. I really don't mind. Stop asking. You're sure about this?"
Sam swallowed and thumbed the keypad, ignoring the press of the cut on her hand from yesterday in the barn. She wasn't sure about any of this. But she knew it was the right thing to do. She had to stop asking for reassurance, like a child, and just go with this. "Yes." She tapped away on her phone quickly, "See you." Sam set the phone down on her desk and turned to her closet. She knew that pulling out the stops for this venture was a little dumb, but she needed every ounce of security and confidence she could come up with. Honesty took steel ovaries, and maybe she didn't have those, but she could look fierce while she clung to whatever guts she did have.
Sam peered into her closet in her lair, and sighed. Even with Max's organizational genius, Sam did not know what to wear to this kind of thing. Emily Post did not have a category for anything like this, not that she looked at the big blue book any other time than when she was told to by Gram. A lady, Gram said, addressed her own thank you cards, even when she did not know how to do it so that said person's grandmother wouldn't sigh and tear up her effort.
Well, it was cold. That cut out some things, and she ignored her church clothes. She did not need a swiss dot, chiffon party dress that Sue had picked up for a song in some vintage shop. She knew what she didn't want, but not what she did. Sam felt along the rack, and pulled out a really soft skirt. It was a black skirt, that would hit just at her knee. It was a very slight flare, with a silk underlay and a few thin layers of something swishy over the top. The top layer had a gentle stiffness to it, because of a ribbon going around the bottom as edging. It looked simple and black from far away, but up close, it was detailed. Sam pulled it out.
She found a creme top, and knowing that she had a black and creme sweater with horses on it, put everything on the bed. Sam faced the desk and dried and flat-ironed her hair, pausing as the sensation built within her. She was no good with hair, but the OT had insisted she know how to do this, that she could figure out hair and make up. Sam did not tell the woman that those lessons hadn't been refreshers. They'd been a crash course in beauty and self-care. She still hated the job, and the texture of cosmetics, not to mention the ethical concerns, but she could fake it.
Sam made quick work of doing what she could with what she had. It was growing, she thought with a sigh. Sam yanked on opaque tights. No way was she going out with bare legs in this weather. Sam carefully tugged on the skirt, and loved the feeling of it as it floated over her legs. It zipped snugly, fitting just right over her stomach. She pulled on the top, a blend that the shop had tried to pass off as mock-silk.
She bit her lip, and reached for the smaller cosmetics bag on her desk. She thumbed the tube. PlantLove Cherry Bliss. Sue insisted she buy it when her protestations about not being able to find ethical make up were halted in this item, right down to the packaging that she could plant and let something grow from it. Hopefully, her own ventures would be successful. Sam applied a careful layer of the red lipstick, and put the tube away. Despite what Sue said, it did not feel like confidence. It felt like battle armor.
"Sam!" Quinn called, "Come see this!" Sam had no idea what he wanted, but she knew, in that instant that she wasn't going out in this skirt. She wanted to change, thought about hollering down for Quinn to wait, but she knew he wouldn't stop until she answered him, "Sam!"
Sam picked up her sweater, and shrugged it on, buttoning it to just below her bust line. The knit was thin, but the horse design was beautiful and fun. Sam loved it. Even if it was a little upscale for her taste, it was great, and had been found at a thrift store. The first owner probably didn't even know a mustang from a mule. Sam looked down at her feet. There was nothing for it. She left her room in her stockinged feet, slip sliding over the wooden floors.
Sam rounded the stairs, and watched as the skirt's bottom layer hugged her body. Even with the overlay, it skimmed the top of her knee that made her look as coltish as she had at 12 and 13. "Well, what's this?" Quinn looked up at her from the couch. He was playing around with Jake's guitar, simply because it annoyed Jake, and there was a pile of mail on the table. He'd called her down for mail, and nothing more. The mail carrier always seemed to give her things here and Three Ponies items at home, and Quinn had stopped at the post office.
Sam supposed he thought she looked nice. Then, he spoiled what would have been a vote of confidence as she paused, "You look like a girl, Samwich."
Sam's confidence was shaken. She'd missed the mark with this outfit, and she knew it. She couldn't play at being something she wasn't, and this outfit felt like a farce, as big a joke as her work clothes still did. Still, she flipped him off, with a glare. Quinn chuckled, and called out, "Hey, Jake! Where are you going?"
Sam's glare turned homicidal. Quinn knew they weren't going anywhere. Jake was loafing about the barn, and only came in for food. He came into the living room, yet another ham sandwich hanging from his huge hand with no plate. This one had at least half a pig on it, complete with mayo, cheese, and potato chips between the thick slices of bread. "Nowhere." Jake was settled in for the day, "Why?"
His gaze was on her, then, something unexpected sparking within her as his brown eyes liquified across the room. Sam willed herself not to blush. Thankfully, she didn't. She didn't so much as breathe. "What?"
He didn't even roll his eyes. Thank God Quinn had some idea, or this would be the strangest experience of their poor brother's life. Wait. He deserved it. This was all his fault. Sam's hand reflexively went into her hair, which was smooth. "I'm going out."
"Uh-huh." Quinn said, clearly laughing at her. His words were almost unheard by everyone, as Jake spoke at the same time.
"Where?" Why did she feel that question in her core? She knew that it was a simple question in Jake's own gruff way.
Sam did not have an answer. Well, she did, she just didn't want to lie to his face. A lie of omission was just as bad. But it was all she had. He would insist on coming otherwise, and she wouldn't say no because she really did want him there. However, she needed to pull up her big girl panties and do this by herself. Jeez. She should not be thinking about her underwear. Sam's knees grew numb. Jake was still looking at her, filling up the space, expecting an answer. His very bearing demanded it. "With Jen."
Quinn cut Jake off, and Sam knew she had had enough of this. "Well, you better make sure that skirt checks is all I'm saying." Sam glared. It was by no means short. Sam made her way back up the stairs. Jake was looking at her, really looking at her.
Sam heard Jake following her up the steps. Quinn asked, "Where are you two going?" Jake gripped her elbow as she slipped on the stairs.
Sam had an answer for him at least, "To get the yardstick!" She was going to beat him with it, not check if her skirt met the floor, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, well, until it did. Sam went into her room, expecting to find Jake there glaring at her for her lack of verbosity, which was ironic coming from him, but he wasn't.
I wanna hide the truth, I wanna shelter you
But with the beast inside there's nowhere we can hide
Don't wanna let you down but I am hell bound
Though this is all for you, don't wanna hide the truth
Your eyes, they shine so bright
I wanna save that light
Demons, Imagine Dragons
He was in front of her as he pushed shut the door behind them. Sam's pulse raced, "So Jen'll be here any second and I do need to change." She backed up against the door, reaching behind her for the lock. She didn't want to walk away from him, walk away from whatever had been building all morning as they worked in the barn, been percolating within their gentle companionship and touches that had lingered for a second too long.
She needed to get a grip and get herself together. It wasn't fair that he looked so very nice in his work clothes. She still felt like she was playing dress up no matter what she wore, and he looked so at ease, so very in control of himself. It wasn't fair that she wanted nothing more than to press her lips to his and see if her lipstick stayed on his skin, so that they would both know that she had been there, so that she could find out if he felt her as keenly as she felt him, just to see if she could watch his self-control crumble.
Jake's agreement died between them as Sam gave into the impulse. She pressed her lips to Jake's, and found her back pressed against the door. Moving in tandem, Sam fisted her hands into his sweatshirt, and melted. Together, they went up flames, teeth and tongue and harsh breathing, scraping and caressing and echoing in their souls. It was a moment that went on forever even as it ended far too quickly. Sam's hands found their way under Jake's sweatshirt as her skirt bunched between.
Jake pulled, and she leaned back, trying to get all of the volume unstuck from between them. She needed to feel... Sam shivered, and wasn't sure if she was begging or demanding that he do something about it, now, yesterday, right now. "Zipper."
His hand loosened in the fabric. "Sorry." He stepped closer to the door, changing the angle by which their bodies met as her physical reaction grew. Obviously, Jake wanted to get as close to her as equally as she wanted to get close to him. Jake slid his hand between her head and the door, his long fingers caressing her skull.
The moment was urgent and timeless. Sam felt electric and desperate, like she was heavy in his arms, and weightless as Jake's mouth stole her breath yet again. Jake was the one to break their embrace, and ask again. "Sure you don't want to stay home? We'll..."
Sam glanced at the clock as her head rested on Jake's shoulder, content now just to be held and feel him next to her. She was secure in his embrace. Sam knew that she was protected and worshiped in his arms. She felt blessed and powerful. Sam knew that what she had to do was the right thing even more, because of this moment.
Sam glanced at Jake. He knew the answer, "I've got to do this, okay? We'll talk later." Jake wasn't satisfied with that answer, but he respected it, and helped her to find her feet.
Jake sat down on the desk chair, his gaze assessing the still cooling flat iron. Sam sighed. His hands had utterly ruined any semblance of style her efforts had achieved. He grinned at her, and Sam crinkled her nose in the mirror.
Ignoring Jake, Sam grabbed a pair of jeans and her boots. Leaning on her dresser, she shucked off her skirt and her tights in one go, letting the skirt fall down to cover her body as she pulled up her jeans. She and yanked on the jeans, and kicked off her skirt, leaving the old clothes in a pile. She was tired of trying to be who she wasn't, who she thought she needed to be, just to get something done. Sam pulled the sides of the jeans together, but couldn't get her fingers to work. It was no wonder. "Are you going to help me, or stare at me?"
Jake deftly did up the button and slid his hands over her hips, "I never stare." Sam grinned, knowing that that was a complete lie. It was okay to be a tiny bit deluded, she figured. Sam saw that there was finally a bit of wear on these jeans, from her daily riding. She was improving, she hoped, and life was really moving forward in ways it never had before. She was starting to feel comfortable at home.
"Liar." Sam reached around him for the socks on her desk. "How are the horses?" Sam found herself sitting on her bed as Jake replied. She sat on the edge, her feet sticking out before her.
Jake knelt down before her and pushed up the leg of her jeans, letting his fingers glide over her calves as he slid the socks on her feet. They were inside out, thankfully. Sam could not handle the sensation of the little strings and the line of the seam on her toes anymore, not in conjunction with the feeling of lingering sensations of the fabric sliding over feet.
"You could come back to the barn and see for yourself." Jake offered. Sam saw through the suggestion as she loosened the laces on her boot and passed one to Jake. She had just been there, only leaving to get cleaned up. She slid her foot inside it, with some help, and let Jake tie up the laces deftly. Jake's hand rested on her knee, keeping her steady as she shifted her weight to slide her foot into her left boot.
"Later, I promise." Sam was glad that he had not pressed her for information about where she was going. Jake nodded, and pulled the laces on the boot, and double knotted it.
Sam looked at Jake. "Thank you." His smile in return was all she needed. He filled her lair in the same way that he filled her heart. There was no need for thanks between them, but she knew that in this too, it was mutual. She needed help with her shoes, and he, oddly, saw it as a way to be there with her.
Standing, she pinned some hair back with a bar clip. Jake pushed her hair aside, and fixed tags on her shirt. Sam saw his eyes liquify in the mirror, and wondered what he was thinking about. Before she could ask, she heard her car, Jen's car, come into the yard. She ran the brush through her flat hair, and noticed that her lipstick was gone. There was a bit of skin irritation under her ear that she hoped no one would notice. Her lips were too full, her skin still too flushed. Jake grinned smugly.
On the way out of the door, Sam noticed a bright tint on Jake's skin that she hadn't before, and passed a tissue towards him, "You forgot to blot."
He took the tissue, and made a face. He passed Sam her wallet and her phone from the basket on the dresser, and Sam understood the message therein. Sam came down the stairs, and felt much better in this outfit, though all of it was likely the endorphins from being quickly kissed senseless mere seconds before. She felt less hidden, somehow, but more confident. It was odd, but better she knew what she was getting, Sam thought. There could be balance, and Sam needed to find it. She yanked down her sweater and smiled as Jen came up the steps. She was ready.
You can mark my words something's about to break
And I found myself in a bitter fight, while I've held your hand through the darkest night
Don't know where you're coming from but you're coming soon
Come on and we'll sing, like we were free
Push the pedal down watch the world around fly by us
Come on and we'll try, one last time
And here we go there's nothing left to choose
And here we go there's nothing left to lose
Nothing Left To Lose, Mat Kearney
Sam got in the car, and Jen began the conversation that would last much of their 45 minute drive. "What's with him?" Sam pulled down her sweater, and pulled her top up, wishing that it was black and not cream. Sam held onto Jen's book that had been gracing the passenger seat.
Sam knew instantly who Jen was talking about. Quinn had been laughing at her, and Jake was quiet, assessing, watchful.
He wasn't exactly happy, both because he'd have to go back to the barn alone, and because Quinn had teased him mercilessly about "Jake's new shade of lipstick." It wasn't her fault he hadn't wiped it off properly.
Sam answered honestly, "You know how grouchy he can get. He has no idea I'm doing this." Sam replied, "What was I going to say? 'Jake, I've decided to have a chat with my father's girlfriend because I'm tired of hating her? I've decided to grow up and take my lumps?' I didn't think he'd take too kindly to not being invited."
Jen began, "It's a big change." Her short hair was pristine, the short cut having added thickness and removed a lot of the fly aways that came from the breaking hair in her braids. Sam still felt Jake's fingers in her hair, cradling her scull, no matter what she did. He would have wanted to be there, and he should have been. Maybe she was shutting him out, but she was tired of hurting him. She was doing this not for herself, for she would be content to have her anger on the forefront forever, even if it did grow tiring. She was taking this step for everyone else. There did not need to be any more carnage. She was doing this for him, but he didn't need to know that, because if he knew, he would never support the sacrifice.
Sam didn't think it was a huge change. She still felt the same way she always had, scared and inadequate, and picked over. Only now, she understood that there was more to it all. She understood more of herself and couldn't allow herself to go on as she had. It didn't feel right anymore. She had simply woken up in Jake's arms and been done. She really was just done. "Not really."
Sam wasn't quite sure why she had woken up yesterday, knowing that it was done, whatever had been standing in the way of moving on with life in spite of her father's choices. Accepting didn't mean agreeing, she knew, because Max didn't agree with medical school, and yet she had printed off some stuff for Jake and stuck it in the Scout. Sam did not agree or understand what was really going on, but her feelings were more complex than that, and finding the root of them simply meant that once she saw the root of what she was dealing with meant that her actions and her game plan changed radically. There was no plan now, only a nothingness that she hoped would one day be acceptance. Maybe it never would be, but she had learned that the pain of this nothingness was the only thing she really had left.
Maybe she had, unconsciously, wanted him to be as lonely, as desperately alone, as she had been when he'd left her in San Francisco. Maybe she had, and the shame of that fell upon her. It was selfish, but she couldn't regret feeling that way. She had come to see her emotions for what they were: fear. She had wanted her father to know that fear, that crushing sense of desolation. If she had to be alone, then so did he. She could not bear the idea that he was happy even as she broke into a million pieces. Gram's words came back to resound in her heart.
She knew now that she couldn't force that emotion upon him. She wanted him to know it, but she did not want him to be as miserable and as broken as she had been. No one would ever wish that on their worst enemy. This realization did not excuse his mistakes, his flaws, nor did it mean that their relationship was better or even healing. He had still hurt her. She was still angry at him, disappointed in him, and debased of any notions of her father as some kind of hero.
But seeing him as a man, as a person, had gotten her to this point. If he was a person like she was a person, then he was worthy of trying to go about finding his own happiness despite pain and regret, too. Sometimes, she only saw her regrets and mistakes clearly when she was happy again. Distance provided clarity, but the clarity wasn't found in the distance of miles. And if Dad was a man, just a man, then this was the right choice.
And I don't know how it happened
I'm just glad that I have someone to play with
In all these years I've learned many things
Me and you 'til we've won
'Cause that's what brothers do
That's What Brothers Do, Confederate Railroad
Quinn strummed the strings dramatically. "You've got lipstick on your ear, still."
Jake swiped at his earlobe. There was nothing there, because he'd gotten most of it off in the kitchen. One little bit and Quinn acts like he's got evidence of the world's biggest unsolved crime, Jake thought. "Shut up."
"Wrong ear." Quinn corrected. Jake rolled his eyes, but that didn't dissuade his brother. "So, when are you telling people? Christmas looks good for me."
"I'm sure it does." Jake replied, knowing that his brothers had a bet pool going. Sam and he did not feel that there needed to be some big discussion to mark this transition in their lives. It was natural and right and good. "We're thinking of renting a billboard at the fair."
"Too late." Quinn replied, "I looked into doing it for you, because that's the kind of brother I am. I am such a good brother." His sigh was melodramatic, and Jake stole a chip out of the bag that Quinn had been hogging, "I'm actually happy for you freaks, even if it does feel a bit doubly incestuous. Whatever will I tell people? My brother is going out with my sister?"
"Tell them to mind their own." Jake replied, glaring, and that went for Quinn, too. Jake changed the subject, because he knew that Quinn was like a dog with a bone sometimes. He was the consummate politician, and Jake knew he was not above using his skills to win some money in a pool that Sam didn't know about. It didn't bother him, but she'd bust some heads if she knew. "You're going to the fair tomorrow?"
"If I must." He sighed, "I must. Think of the ice cream, the cheese...the intestinal upset, the queasy stomach..." Quinn trailed off, with a gleam in his eyes that had nothing to do with food.
"Scared about seeing Sarah?" Jake asked. Her family did a lot with the 4-H barns, and it was going to be nearly impossible to avoid her. Jake felt bad for Quinn, because he knew that his brother still held a torch for Sarah. She'd stomped on his brother's soul, though Jake knew that she didn't know it. To her, it was just one of those things that ended when paths went in different directions.
"Shitless." Quinn said seriously. Clearly, it wasn't one of those things for Quinn.
Sam would not want Quinn to be alone, to feel alone, because he really wasn't alone. Jake didn't want that either. "You can come around with Sam and me, if you want." Jake offered.
"And stew in my singleness?" Quinn took the chip bag back with a scowl. He didn't own the chips, but Jake let go. "No thanks. I'm a big boy."
Jake understood exactly what was going to happen, then. "Going to stay with Mom?"
"Yep." Quinn answered flatly, turning his greasy fingers back to Jake's guitar's strings.
Jake stood and dusted the crumbs off of his shirt, "Make sure you get some extra fudge."
Quinn was not about to blamed for last year's fiasco. He struck a discordant note. It still burned that hardly anyone had gotten any fudge. "I did last year, but Nate ate it all."
Jake moved towards the door, pausing to ask. "Is he coming home?" He felt a spark of shame that he didn't know what was really going on. With work, and school, and everything else, time was just rushing by. He did not know what was going on with the fair, and in fact, it had snuck up on him. Still, he was excited.
"Probably. Only a fool would skip the fair." Quinn said, and Jake gathered that he didn't know either. They might live and work together, but sometimes the living and the work got in the way of the together time.
"I'm going to River Bend." Jake said, and left the house. He had a fair idea of where Sam was, what she was doing, and he knew that she would be back at River Bend soon. He wanted to be there when she did arrive.
Witch made good time, Jake thought, as she moved easily across the range. Jake turned her out in River Bend's pasture easily. He stopped for a second to look over the horses. What he saw gave him hope. Kitty was looking at him, as if to ask where on earth Sam was. Her companion's sightless eyes were no impediment to her own awareness of him, and Jake replied, "She's not here." He stepped forward and ran his hand gently over Penny's side, making it clear that he was a friend, and not a threat.
She had only been here a few weeks, but she knew him well, mostly because if Sam was home, she was with her horses, which, when Brynna wasn't around, had somehow come to include Penny. Sam had a huge soft spot for Brynna's horse, though she would sooner die than admit it to someone. Jake would never tell, but she had gone to bat for that horse in more ways than one.
I, I live in dreams, strange as it seems love came to me
When I, I opened my eyes I realized
Love came to me, only this time for real.
Love Came to Me, Dion and the Belmonts
Sam stomped into the barn, and anger was written into every line of her body. "I am done!" She snapped, as she stimmed, wrapping her right fingers around her left wrist, and squeezing. She was obviously upset. "Just done! First, it's my father. Then, it's my china, and would you believe I couldn't decide what was worse?" Jake knew that it was best to let her go when she was on a roll. Sam continued as she sat down on the top of an upside down bucket, "And now she's turning my barn into a boarding stable!"
Jake winced internally as he empathized with Sam's anger. "What more does she want? I thought it was that idiot J.J. I had to watch out for, but it's her!" Sam's body went rigid and her eyes flared, "I am going to flip."
Jake thought that she had already flipped. She was clearly very upset. Jake knew that she needed to talk. "What happened?"
"Mr. McSmiles comes home," Jake did not ask for clarification. That was what she called her father behind his back when he came back from a date because he was all smiles. "And tells me...tells me, can you believe that? He tells me that her horse is coming to live at River Bend!" Sam finished, and Jake saw how angry Sam was. She wasn't angry about the horse, exactly. It all came down to the choice of having a say in what happened on the ranch, what happened in the barn and with the other animals.
Jake winced as he heard the unshed tears and the raw grit in her voice. He didn't want to tell her to suck it up and roll with it, but evidently she had no other choice. He wrapped his arms around her, and she put her head onto him. "I'm sorry, Brat." She felt powerless and out of control, clearly, and her anger was only a front for another hurt and betrayal.
"He said that he was sorry I felt that he'd picked Brynna, and that he didn't know how I'd gotten that idea!" Sam said, "Why doesn't he look at his actions?" Jake understood, and wished that he could somehow make this better. He didn't have a solution. Every time Sam walked into her barn, the one place on earth she considered to be a refuge, she would have to see proof of what was going on her in life. He understood why she felt so vulnerable. Wyatt was saying all of the right things to her, but not going about things in the right way.
"I don't know, Brat." Jake replied. Sam took a calming breath, and Jake picked straw out of her hair. "A horse is always a good thing, no matter how it comes to be." This horse had to be, anyway. He couldn't see her avoiding the barn and the pastures, not when she was making so much progress.
"I'm not saying...I just..." Sam stood up, and the bucket tipped over. She winced slightly at the sound, "I'd never take drama out on a horse, you know that, right?" She was looking at him imploringly.
"I know." Jake said simply. There was a look of uncertain sadness on her face, and Jake wanted to make it go away so very badly. Sam tilted her head, and a new gleam came into her eye. Jake was suddenly wary, "What, Sam?"
"I think today is the day that we leave the ring. What say you?" Jake knew that she knew that that was what was going to happen when they went riding later, but at least she valued his opinion to hear it and convince him that she was right if he disagreed. He'd never admit that he often disagreed with her just to bicker about it.
You take a stone and make it shine and somehow you bring out the best in me.
I count on you to lift me up and sometimes take me down a peg
With a word or just a touch, somehow you bring out the best in me.
I'm gonna run until I go to distance cause you believe I will
And if I stumble baby what's the difference?
You're standin' by me, still.
The Best in Me, Suzy Bogguss & Chet Akins
Really, though, it was Penny that helped Sam to remind her body that she knew how to ride again. Penny's arrival made some connections clear to her in ways that Jake only put together weeks later. Penny could not rely on her eyes, much in the same way Sam could not rely on her own senses sometimes. Penny had developed other tools, and it gave Sam hope that she would one day do the same, hope that Jake could literally see with every passing day when she got in the saddle. She developed a kinship with Penny that defied rational thought. She loved that horse with every fiber of her being.
One bright morning, Jake "stopped by" River Bend before going with Dr. Haskins, meaning that he had overslept and passed his late morning fumbling out of Sam's warm bed off as an early visit. He followed Sam out to the barn. She had stuffed her pajama pants into her boots, and wandered out to do her chores in some get up that consisted of sleep pants, a too-big t-shirt that rode up when she lifted her arms, and an old sweatshirt of his that covered all the things her shirt did not. Her hair was messy, and she had never been more beautiful.
Her sleepy expression had blinked away when she heard J.J. speak. Jake put a hand on her arm, knowing that this was not good. J.J. was speaking too loudly, "Some real good people took you in, Penny. You might have otherwise been horsemeat, you pretty girl." J.J. was kind to Penny, but it was clear that he saw her as something to be pitied. He treated her with difference, putting her on a pedestal that was little more than a cage.
Sam tucked her hair behind her ears, leaving straw from her wheels stuck there. Sam dropped the light bucket she was carrying with force. "She's not a pitiful creature, J.J." Sam's words were soft, but they were purposeful.
J.J. moved around Penny, and Jake could see that Sam was annoyed that J.J. had begun her chores. He thought he was being kind, and Sam had a hard time telling him otherwise. She was trying to see the good in J.J., the things that made him kind to the horses and a hard worker who did his best at his job, who talked about ranching like it was the best thing in the world. People were not all good or bad, and she was trying to focus on those things, even while she continually called out things he sometimes said, with mercy but without any slack.
"She's a good pasture puff." J.J. thought he was agreeing with Sam. Jake felt Sam bristle. Penny was a horse in her prime, a good solid work horse, not a pasture puff or as pasture ornament, who was retired and living out the rest of her heathy years with minimal work as payment for services rendered and out of respect. Kitty was a closer description of that than Penny. Brynna used Penny in her work quite regularly, and she was here because of barn repairs in her home barn.
"You have no idea what you're talking about." Sam snapped. "Just because she doesn't do things like you think a horse should, it doesn't make her a charity case." Jake's eyebrows rose, as he realized that Sam thought Penny was like her, that they were united in their experiences. Sam connected with Penny. "And it doesn't make her less of a horse."
Jake picked up the bucket to keep from hurting J.J. He was such a patronizing idiot. "Now, don't take offense."
"Don't tell me what to do, J.J." Sam returned, and Jake knew this situation was going to get out of hand if something didn't change fast. Sam's voice got professional, distant, even when Jake knew it was anything but uncaring. "Just answer this. If you were choosing between Penny and Blue, who would you pick?"
Jake knew that this was a trick question designed as a test, and a lesson. If J.J. asked what the reasons were for choosing, he might learn something about horsemanship. Penny was a really trusting horse. Jake had only observed her a few times, but he could read her strengths and her flaws well enough. Blue was a horse anyone would be proud of, but he was a different horse, and no two horses were the same. They were both great animals, but each had things they could bring to the table.
However, if he picked one horse over the other without asking why, he would have to be confronted with his ablism or his pity. His answer was not a surprise to Jake. He didn't even think for a second, "Blue." Jake knew right then that he would never truly think beyond what he thought he knew, that he would never think beyond the boundaries and limitations he'd created in his mind, and that it would be his downfall. Penny's blindness changed nothing about her worth or her ability, it simply changed some of the way she saw the world, and got things done.
Sam did not bother to tell J.J. where he had gone wrong, or where he'd missed so many chances to learn something about what it meant to see horses for the awesome creatures they were, as unique individuals with strengths and weaknesses, with gifts to share and give. Sam ended the conversation, "If you were the last one in the feed room, J.J., please remember to cover the feed." J.J. looked relieved because of the rapid change of topic. Jake gathered that J.J. often felt out of his depths around Sam. Quinn thought that J.J. was scared of Sam, intimidated by her, and Jake liked that just fine.
Sam continued on with her chores, and Jake had never been more amazed by her, and that was saying something. Later, he heard J.J. whining to Pepper, and Pepper shut him down flat. Jake didn't even care. He had learned so much, not about horses, but about how much of a blessing Penny was in his life because of what she had done for Sam. Jake's mind floated back to the present, and he rubbed Penny between the ears. Blessings did often come from the strangest sources, and sometimes, the most unexpected changes turned out to be right.
I know he's yours and he'll never belong to me again
So I'll keep my head down, if you keep it quiet from now on
So don't brag, keep it to yourself
I was never enough but I can try
I can try to toughen up
I listened when they told me, if he burns you, let him go
Change is hard, I should know
Change is Hard, She & Him
Jen parked in the apartment complex some ways away from home. Sam had never been here before. The place was small, but well taken care of. She found the slip of paper in her wallet that she had sneakily copied down the address upon, and looked at the door. At least it was accessible, and Brynna's car was out front. She had no reason to turn back now. Jen shut off the radio, "I'm guessing you want to do this alone."
Sam handed Jen the novel that had been on the seat, and looked over at her best friend, love and gratitude welling within her heart. The cold air outside was nothing compared to the warmth in this tiny car. "I'll be ten minutes."
Jen unlocked the doors, "Send up a flare if you get lost. If you're not back by the time Victor confesses his special love to Mary, I'll come get you." Sam smiled, and got out of the car. The wind whipped by her, and she felt the coolness like a espresso shot of clarity and resolve.
She made her way carefully to the door. Sam licked her bare lips, and, knowing that Jen had her back, knocked on the door. The door opened a second later, with the latch coming undone. City Girl, it seemed, locked her door in the middle of podunk. Brynna floundered, "Sam? What are you doing here?"
There was nothing negative in her tone, but the surprise set Sam's hackles to raising. "Well, I figure you're around often enough, I should return the favor." There was a sharpness to her tone that she had promised herself she would not use.
"I think your father would want to know that you're here." Brynna said. She was wearing yoga pants and a thermal top. Sam heard the TV going in the background.
"Look." Sam put her cards on the table, "You and I both know that we need to talk."
Brynna faltered, but the door opened. Sam went into the apartment, and found that it was very romantically decorated. There was wrought iron lamps on the tables, and a big overstuffed couch taking up much of the front room. Sam did not sit down as Brynna paused the television. She even had a TiVo. They didn't even have cable on the ranch, and hooked up Netflix. She was watching Project Runway reruns. The fact struck Sam deeply.
Sam sat down at the table in the back of the open room when Brynna gestured to her mug and paperwork. "This won't take long. I've come to offer a truce." Sam began, trying to be as light as she could in a very heavy moment.
Brynna set down her mug, "A truce?"
"Yes." Sam affirmed simply. She said what she came to say. "I can't say I'm comfortable with the situation, but my problems with my father actually have nothing to do with you."
Brynna obviously, despite her father's assertions that she was smart to anyone who would listen, was a little slow on the uptake. "Why are you here, then?"
"Does the word 'truce' mean nothing to you?" Sam tried again to say what she meant without snapping, because she'd promised herself she'd act like an adult. "I'll stay out of your relationship with my father. All I ask is that you stop trying to smooth things out between us." Sam referenced Brynna's increasingly visible efforts to get them to talk when she was around. It was glaringly obvious that they weren't really speaking and Brynna was always sticking her pert little nose into things that had nothing to do with her, bringing up topics and asking direct questions to break a silence that was not hers to end. "Our problems have nothing to do with you, and I would very much appreciate it if you would stay out of it. In return, you get a Sam-free relationship."
That last incentive sealed the deal for Brynna. It hurt Sam to see something flash in her eyes, but Sam wasn't about to let whatever chips she had in this game be wasted on emotions. She was going to stay out of their relationship after this one bit of meddling to do what was right. She did not owe Brynna this, nor her father, but she owed it to herself. "Your father is concerned that you plan to leave."
See, Sam thought, this is the problem. He had never said that he was concerned that she planned to leave. Leave River Bend? Not while there was breath in her body. They needed her, if only to sort the mail and return emails and fuss over the details. Sam did not explain this to Brynna. She was not to be trusted. Besides, one truth was as good as any other. "I'm not leaving my Grandmother."
Brynna sipped at her coffee. She seemed to consider Sam's words."So, then, how would we have a Sam-free relationship?"
What did the woman want? Dad had already farmed out her guardianship while she was with Sue. He'd made some fuss two weeks ago about having it back, as though that mattered now, as though that piece of paper was supposed to make her feel safe. "You're doing alright now." Sam replied. There was a limit to what she could give this woman. She could not fall off of the face of the earth, nor would she give up her home. It would have to be taken. Again.
"You have no idea, do you?" Brynna shook her head when Sam went to contradict her. "You know, when I met your father, I met a man that wasn't only missing his daughter, but his right hand."
Sam tried to keep the conversation on point. "Jake has nothing to do with this." Sam begged herself not to let her hackles raise, simply because Brynna was poking at a weak spot in her carefully constructed shell.
Her redirection made Brynna smile. "I meant you."
"Jake does more with the ranch than I ever really have." Sam corrected. Brynna thought she knew everything. She didn't. Sam wasn't only here for herself. She was doing this for Jake and Gram and Dallas and Luke and Max and all of her siblings and everyone else, too.
"Maybe when you were younger." Brynna allowed, "But that can hardly be true now, because he quit, right?" Her fingers wrapped around her cup.
"It's not that simple." Sam admonished. Jake had quit, yes, but you would hardly know it. He didn't take directives from Dad anymore, but he was more than willing to help her, more than willing to pitch in when Dallas gave her a chore that he knew they would do together.
"We're getting off subject." Brynna moved along, and Sam was glad, if only so that she secure the woman's word and get on with her life. "What is it that you see happening?"
"I don't like you, but I intend to tolerate you." Sam was honest, and laid out her assessment, "You mean well, most of the time, and most of the time, you're not a complete idiot. You've got a nice horse. She seems to like you. Penny tells me pretty much everything I need to know."
"I never did thank you personally for allowing Penny in as a boarder." Brynna said, "I didn't realize that you had been the one caring for her."
Like she was going to let J.J. tend to Penny. Pepper was busy, and Sam didn't mind doing what she could in the barn. Penny could not help who owned her, and thus far, she hadn't had any cause to deal with Dad's girlfriend about Penny. She wanted to keep it that way. "I didn't do it for you. River Bend has honor and values, you know. We don't take personal issues out on a horse."
"And your father says you don't love him." Brynna said. "I wonder if he knows who you mean when you talk about loyalty to River Bend."
"I mean what I say." Sam replied in a measured tone. Her father's assertion that she did not love him hurt, though she had hardly expected to hear anything else. She had prepared herself to hear much worse. "Though I would prefer it if my father did not hear about this visit." She knew he would never understand, and would take the trip out here to mean more than it really did.
Sam shifted. Her message was done. There was nothing left to say. "I understand." Brynna stood, "I'll think about what you've said, Sam, and we will talk again." She peeked around the door, "Though now I should probably see who gets eliminated."
Sam tugged at her sweater, and didn't reply as she walked out the door. No one got eliminated on that episode. What happened in reality remained to be seen. Sam knew, however, that she had to put her pennies on the track and run like hell out of the way of the train that was going to crush her flat if she didn't stop playing chicken.
Well, it's good to see you, I must go, I know I look a fright.
Anyway my eyes are not accustomed to this light.
And my shoes are not accustomed to this hard concrete.
So I must go back to my room and make my day complete.
Counting Flowers on the Wall, The Statler Brothers
Two weeks later, Sam packed up her bag and headed over to Three Ponies to get some work done. She just needed a change of pace because Gram was in a really chatty mood today, and she had a lot of work to do. Gram gave her a ride, because she was glad, Sam thought, to see her out of the house sometimes. It was Friday, and it had been a long, long, week with school because everyone was home and she still had work to do. Working at home did not discount the impact of exams and discussion boards on her energy level.
Sam let herself into the kitchen at Three Ponies, and began to work. She enjoyed her schoolwork, enjoyed mostly the feeling of getting things done, crossing things off of her list. She liked figuring out what her texts said, what she thought about those things, and what she thought really meant. She was happy working this way. It, at the very least, left more time for the horses.
Her laptop needed to be plugged in after a few hours, and Sam used the task of getting her cord as a reason to go to the bathroom, brush her teeth again, and find a sweater. After another hour of work, Sam got up, and made herself some leftovers. She wandered into the living room, enjoying being home alone, and ate her lunch while watching HGTV. She didn't always have time for TV, but she didn't watch much TV, and a show about a woman who restored old homes rather than giving them some bland upgrade was her guilty pleasure.
Sam put her bowl in the sink, rinsed it, and went back to work. A little after two thirty, Sam heard boots on the stair. It wasn't Luke, because he had taken lunch out with him today. Sam heard somebody humming, and she knew right then that it was Adam. He came into the room. "Hey, Sammy."
Sam paused the timer on her assignment. They were often timed, "Hey, Adam." He was home for the fair, the last to arrive. Nate, Adam, Quinn, and Jake were all home. Seth hadn't yet shown up, and Kit was worlds away. Sam didn't think Seth was coming this year, though she did not say so to Max, who was stressed, but on cloud nine, with people to feed and and a full house to rule over.
Adam went for the cookie jar, like any sensible person might after being away from home. He took in her attire in the middle of the afternoon, "Excited for the fair?"
"Oh..." Sam hedged. "I'm not going." She flicked her eyes towards her books, hoping that he would simply think that she had too much to do. The truth was, she didn't much want to see all of the people she had used to know very well, and she did not see the point of expending all of the effort to go. Out in the wider world, she felt very limited and shut out in ways that she no longer did in her family. She saw no reason to go to the fair and see inaccessibility and inequality everywhere. There was enough of it that she could not avoid in her daily life. She was just fine here.
He seemed to hear the things she was not saying. "That's a real shame." Maybe not, though, Sam thought, because he simply asked, "Can I help you get anything done?"
"No, it's okay." Sam replied, picking up a pencil. "I'll go some other time. Don't worry about it." Sam watched as he grabbed another cookie.
"The offer stands, Sammy." Adam was a good brother. He'd only teased her a little growing up, being one of the older ones, and he could always be counted upon to have her back and take her side when she and Jake had squabbled. He was always a solid friend, especially now, when the age difference different feel so gaping and wide. "Want me to bring you anything back?"
"A small bag of those mints I like would be nice, and maybe some of those red gummy candies." Sam tried to think of things that would be easily transported for the trip. Anything anybody else liked would come back, at best, half-eaten delivered with sheepish smiles and the passing of the blame.
Adam nodded, and proceeded to spend some time with her, asking about the family and everything that was going on. He went to catch up with everyone else, and Sam heard him head out, wishing that she could go along, too. It was nice to have him home again.
Gwen the Goose: A fair is a veritable smorgasbord orgasbord orgasbord
After the crowds have ceased
Each night when the lights go out
It can be found on the ground all around
Oh, what a ratly feast!
Why, a fair has enough disgusting leftover food to satisfy a whole army of rats!
Templeton: I like high living... what you say tempts me!
Gwen the Goose: It's true. Go to the fair, Templeton. You will find that it will surpass your wildest dreams
A Veritable Smorgasbord, Charlotte's Web
It wasn't a very well kept secret, but Jake liked the fair. He hated crowds, and he hated bustle, but he loved the fair. It was a holdover of emotion from childhood. Every year, he'd spent all summer looking towards the fair, and all spring preparing for the next one. It was the plight of ranch and farm kids everywhere. There was just something about it, and this year was going to be fun, too.
"What cars are we taking?" Dad asked. With seven people going, they could either take the big van, piling in there like sardines, or they could spread out a bit and take a few cars. This discussion was part of the fair process. Jake knew that separate cars were the best choice for them.
Quinn offered a solution, "There's room for at least four in the Scout. If I drive, that leaves Sam, Jake, and somebody else. Then you and Mom could just take the car."
Jake was not adverse to that plan. "You're not driving my truck." Witch agreed, looking at her own brother with a superior expression as they walked along. Jake kept her in line easily. She liked to spat with her brother, and Jake wasn't going to have it today.
"It was mine first." Quinn asserted, which only served to annoy Jake. "And if anyone is driving, it's going to be me."
Jake did not want to admit that he didn't trust Quinn to drive with Sam in the car. He knew that he should confront the issue, explain it, and work through it, but he didn't want to do it. He did not want his PTSD to ruin the image he had of the fair and he did not want to admit that there were areas where he still struggled.
Dad shot them a look. He couldn't see it, as Dad was beside him, but he felt it. From slightly in front of them, Adam interjected, "Sam's not going." Eyes left the dot on the horizon between their horse's ears, and looked in his direction, "She said that she had stuff to do."
Yeah, Jake's mind scoffed , she had stuff to do. It wasn't her work, because she always planned to have Friday less full. Unless he missed his guess, she would have spent an hour over lunch rather than the 15 minutes she generally gave herself and watched TV. She would have puttered and fussed over planning out next week's work. She wasn't ill, that he knew. She had not said she wasn't going, so what happened between the last time he'd seen her and when Adam had gotten home?
Jake didn't like unanswered questions or unexplainable changes in behavior, and by the time he got home later, he was stewing. His reaction didn't exactly make sense, except that it did. How was he supposed to go to the fair without anybody to eat the other half of the food he bought, and pester him to pester their parents to buy sheep that they did not need because the little 4Her had done such a good job, and wasn't it cute, and please Jake, look at its eyes? She was messing up tradition, and he did not like that.
Jake saw to the last few chores on his docket, dusted off his hands, and walked with purpose towards the porch. Sam's chair was there, and he made short work of taking it to the Scout and putting it in the back. He pulled off the seat cushion, and put it in the front seat. The wheelchair had small hooks that allowed him to connect the chair to spots bolted into the floor of the truck bed. It had taken one Saturday afternoon, and a little bit of fiddling on the internet to figure out the best way to install the system that allowed them to bolt the chair to the floor of the truck via straps, hooks, and heavy duty tracks. It wasn't that hard. Bungee cords worked, but they weren't exactly the safest thing for the frame of the chair. Hooks and straps did more to distribute the weight of the chair and hold it steady without any undue stress on the frame.
The first step was simple, and required that he lock the wheels of the chair. Jake flipped the locks and shook the chair gently as he reached for the first hook, and secured it to the front of the chair, near the frog leg on the left. The metal clicked into place. He was careful to remove the slack from the straps and make sure the front was secure before he pressed down the back of the chair, securely, but not tightly. The system was in place and easy to use. It took all of two minutes to have the chair in place, two minutes that he needed to figure out why she didn't want to go. He could have done it faster, but he had to figure out what was going on.
The rebel looked quite passive when he went into the living room, finally determined not to stew and to discuss the matter like Ella had taught them to do. There was no reason to skip the fair. The sky was not falling. Sam was sitting with her feet up on the couch, reading some Faulkner novel. "We're going to the fair." He regretted not phrasing his words as a question, but he wasn't a wordy guy. She knew that his thoughts never made it into words, most times.
Sam looked his way over her novel. How could she still be reading, having heard everyone getting ready? Jake remembered that she was now an expert at tuning people out, thanks to the effects of the accident. "Have fun. Where's the house phone?" Sam did not like to be left alone without knowing where the phone was. Sometimes, it took her a few rings to get up, and rushing could cause her to fall, not to mention of there was some kind of emergency...
"No." Jake frowned, "We're going to the fair in ten minutes. Are you ready?" She was, he guessed. She was dressed. There was a soft cotton thing in her hair, and the bottom two buttons on her sweater were misbuttoned. There, that was a question. He was proud of himself for asking a question he knew the answer to so as to 'facilitate dialogue' like Ayers had once advised.
Sam pushed her headphones off of her ears, "Thanks for the invite, but I'm busy." She pulled the headphones up on her ears, again, and tried to send a nonverbal message by turning up the music.
"So you're not going?" Jake clarified, "You're going to sit here, and read As I Lay Dying and eat leftovers and be alone?" Normally, that would be the definition of a nice evening, but not when the fair was in question.
"Oh, no. I ate most of the leftovers for lunch. I'm going to have a sandwich..." Sam trailed off, noticing the expression he couldn't keep from his face. "What's with you?"
He was just feeling a little bit baffled. He wasn't the one ruining one of the most deep-seated traditions they had. Going to the fair was important. She loved the fair, and never once before had he literally had to beg her to get in the car. Well, he'd never begged her once, and he wouldn't start now. "You have eight minutes now, Sam. Do you need anything before we go?"
"No, I'm fine." She said tensely. It was the kind of tone she usually reserved for telling him off with, or telling him just how angry she was with him. "See you later. Tell Gram I said 'hi' when you see her." Everybody went to the fair on Friday, and chores and everything were settled for a rare night off and some family fun.
"Tell her yourself. We're meeting for dinner." Jake crossed his arms, knowing that Sam wasn't going to much like being told flat out that she was going, but she was going. She was going. There was no earthly reason for her not to go. Sandwiches were better at the fair, if she really wanted one, and not a good pork chop or something.
Sam glared. "I'm not going." She was a little bit louder than he though she had cause to be. "Why should I go?"
"You're not sick, your work is done, your chores are done, every person you know is going to be there, there's no reason not to go. You're going." Jake replied, and checked his watch, "Seven minutes, Sam. You really should get moving. I already put the chair in the truck."
Sam put her book on the floor and turned to sit up. Jake helped her to pull up because she had become almost lost in the deep padding of the couch.
Jake thought that she had seen reason, and would go do what she needed to do before they left. That was, until she spoke."Why is this so important to you?"
Jake figured he could pause the clock for this. She was going to go. He was satisfied that she had decided. If he could impress upon her that this was important to him, then she would set aside her misgivings and come along. Later, when they were stuffed full of food, they could talk through whatever she was feeling. "It's tradition."
"Not anymore." Sam returned simply, "It's best that we just leave things they way they're supposed to be in our minds, and let it go."
"Sam." Jake finally figured it out. She liked the fair so much that she wasn't willing to go there. She didn't want things to be different. It made sense to him. It wasn't the whole story, that was for sure, but her unwillingness to go only made it clearer that she had to go, if indeed it meant as much to her as she said it did. "This year might be the best yet."
Sam looked over at him, a soft smile gracing her face. "What was your next tactic? Flattery, emotional manipulation?"
Jake answered honestly, and confessed that his end game had only been to get her to the fair. "I would have put you in the truck." He did not see the pillow that hit him in the face coming his way.
"That wouldn't have worked." Sam headed towards the downstairs bathroom. Jake breathed a sigh of relief.
"Three minutes!" He called out, instead of admitting that she was right. Kidnapping wasn't his strong suit, not that he had ever tried it. The truth was, he would have just ratted her out to Mom.
Well there's a full moon in the western sky, and there's magic in the air.
Ain't nothin' I know of, can make you fall in love like a night at the county fair.
Well, we walked through the midway, the lights and the laughter,
She puts her little hand in mine.
County Fair, Chris LeDoux
Quinn clambered out of the Scout. Jake got out the wheelchair, and Sam slid down to the ground from the passenger seat. Jake, of course, had driven. Quinn and Adam had shared the back seat. The drive hadn't taken very long, and Sam had listened to the conversation without participating much. Sam got in the chair, towards the back of the truck, and looked at the small casters, wondering if they would make it over the dirt and the gravel in the fairground. There was nothing for it now. Apprehension and worry built inside her.
Evening was falling as they fell in step next to Max and Luke, who met them from where they and Nate had found a space. "Well..." Max said, when the approached the gate, before they mixed in the line, "Stay with your buddy." Sam did not twist around to see Luke softly doing a head check. He was two short, and Sam figured he was telling himself that his oldest child was nearly 31. Some things died a heard, slow, death. She wondered if he would still do head checks when he was ninety.
"Mom..." Quinn asked, and Sam smiled, "Would you be my buddy?" Jake's hand gently squeezed her shoulder from where he stood behind her. It was kind of sweet to make sure that Max got to all the places she wanted to go to without having to worry about keening track of Luke, who did tend to hang out in front of the machinery building.
"Hm." Max pretended to be critically thinking over her choices. "If you don't eat all the fudge this year, sure." Quinn huffed, and his brothers poked fun at him.
They got to to the ticket booth easily enough, and it gave Sam paused when she realized that she got in free, because of the chair. Jake got in free because he was pushing her. Nate saw her discomfort, in that she felt that she was not paying her way, and tried to ease it. "You've paid a thousand times before." They were walking along the concrete along the front of the fairgrounds, near where the path split to lead to the barns or the grandstand and food. "Don't sweat it."
Sam tried not to care, but she felt like she was taking advantage of the system. It was a fleeting feeling though, because they were able to get lost in the crowds of diverse people. Sam found that she loved mixing in with people who were clearly out of towners, and locals, and ranch-people, and rodeo people, and others from all walks of life. Here, she wasn't Sam, she was just some girl, anybody she could possibly choose to be.
And yet, she knew that she belonged here. The same food stands were in the same places, and some of the workers were clearly visible. Everything was just the same, and it didn't hurt. This time would have passed anyhow, and she was different now, but she hadn't missed out. Sam saw a sign and asked, "If I paid you $30, would you eat a fried Oreo?"
The look of revulsion on Jake's face was classic. Sam fell silent as they watched the crowds. As she had in years past, she made up backstories for the people she saw, based on what she could see about them. It occupied her mind, even as she had to work hard not to bump into people who stepped in front of her before she could slow the chair down. The third time it happened, she whispered, "It's okay. They just didn't see me."
Jake frowned intensely at the person's back. As they walked, Sam's heart filled with the sound of a drum circle and people visiting. The profane, common environment suddenly felt very spiritual. There was good and bad, beauty and pain, everywhere, mixing as one. Jake took over pushing then, and Sam saw the church stand in the distance. She realized that her hands were dark with the soil and rocks from the wheels. She often didn't use the pushbars, and it showed.
By the time they got inside, everyone else was sitting down at a big table. They had started out here at the same second exactly, and it mystified her that she moved that much more slowly. The big plates of food in the empty spots were calling. "We didn't keep you waiting?" Sam asked, knowing that, somehow, they had.
The room was loud, and her senses spun as denials reached her ears. Sam reached around the chair for her bag and pulled out a wet wipe to clean her hands before she touched her food. A soil garnish did not sound appetizing. Sam realized that Brynna was looking at her. Sam very carefully, held out the bag, and asked, "Would you like one?"
Brynna did take one. It seemed her point had been made. Jake had not understood going to see Brynna, but he was proud of her for doing it. Somehow the message got out that they were trying to bury the hatchet. Sam did not look at her father. She could spare a wet wipe for someone Penny thought so highly of. This had nothing to do with him. Sam trusted Penny, even if she did not agree with her assessment.
There were so many people, that Sam was bumped into at least twice. Her chair wasn't blocking the aisle, but she had parked on the end of the picnic table to avoid getting out. People didn't mean to bump into her, and they had always sat here. Sam ate quickly to avoid nearly getting bashed in the head. Jake looked at her again, as she tried to scoot in more to avoid another passerby. "There's room on the bench."
Sam declined the same offer for the third time. Sam knew that she should have gotten out of the chair, and parked it, and sat on the bench, but it hadn't made much sense at the time. There was room for the chair, but not her in the chair, evidently. Gram tried to stuff her with the extras, but Sam declined any extra food. It didn't taste the same way as it always had. Even her tea was too sour. She pushed the cup towards Jake, and he downed it. Sam was grateful to not have to explain to Gram that her favorite treat foods no longer tasted quite as enjoyably as they once had.
As was customary, Gram went around the table and asked everyone where they wanted to go at the fair, so that a basic framework of where people would be could be constructed.
Sam listened as best she could over the loud noise of the church dinner stand. The baked potatoes and huge helpings of meat, gravy, and other fixings was a popular attraction. Sam didn't eat much. The tea was sour, and she still could barely tolerate the texture of meat. The scent of the pepper was overpowering, and she could barely force herself to swallow, no matter what she tried to tell her body. Thankfully, they ate for free as members of the church, though everyone dropped something in the donation box. Sam threw in extra because of all of her wasted food. Brain injury or no, she hated that she could no longer even tolerate foods she'd dreamed about.
Gram and Max and Quinn were going to stick together. Sam figured she and Jake would just wander around as the light faded. There was nothing she really was dying to do or see, though she had always enjoyed the sounds and the sights of the old barns lit up with old fashioned electric lighting, yellow bulbs shining merrily over the animals, all scrubbed up and looking their best. Sam wiggled her toes in her boots.
As they disbanded for parts unknown, Dad made it a point to tell her that they would catch up later. Sam nodded. They were trying now, simply by not talking about the things that would hurt the other person. It was working for now. When Brynna said goodbye, Sam replied. Sam thought that Gram's jaw hit the floor.
And you're a picture of strength, and grace and beauty
And me I'm just a fool in a super market aisle
Well I, well know hello would surely end up awkward
I never had the knack for talkin any way
You're not the kind for bending over backwards
Smile and turn my shopping cart around and walk away
Ain't it strange
Well, ain't it strange
7&7, Turnpike Troubadours
"I want ice cream." Quinn declared, "Jakey, buy me some ice cream." Quinn was walking along side of Sam, on the other side. She was pushing herself over the rocks and the dirt. Jake rolled his eyes. Even though he'd found them soon after dinner, Quinn had easily avoided Sarah, and Sam knew things were not as over between them as she had assumed when she saw the faraway look on Sarah's face when she spotted Quinn out of the corner of her eye. Jake had merely looked at her, and Sam knew that Quinn was still in love with Sarah. What he didn't know was that she was sure Sarah loved him back. There were still things they had to say, but she knew, too, that Quinn wasn't ready.
"No." Sam replied, "You'll get sick if you eat too much dairy too quickly, and anyway, we just ate." She was not going to have one bit of sympathy for him as he hadn't taken his dairy pill today.
"God, would you stop channelling Mom? It's creepy." Quinn moved along good naturedly. He patted the nose of a dairy cow. Sam took a quick peek at her, and saw that she was somebody's show cow, a lovely red and white simmental. She was called Alice. Sam got the idea that she was pampered, and not at all phased by the people. Sam knew she would place well tomorrow.
Sam decided to have some fun at Quinn's expense. "I have no idea what you're talking about." Sam spoke primly, moving easily over the paved aisle. This portion of the barn wasn't crowded. "I want to go see the deer."
"Ice cream, first." Quinn bargained. Sam shared a glance with Jake. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder. Sam didn't mind that his hand often found a space there. It made her feel more secure in the seat, and it wasn't like they were the sort to hold hands anyhow. Jake was right.
Sam shook her head. "Why do you like to look at animals you have already?" Quinn asked. "The horses, the cattle..." He was just talking to talk. It was his way, and it served the purpose of annoying Jake.
Sam smiled, ready to retort smartly, when she saw a flash of mocha hair out of the corner of her eye. She knew instantly that those designer boots did not belong to anyone but Rachel Slocum, home on fall break from her school in the UK. Sam had forgotten all about the fact that she was visiting her brother. Jen had been spending so much time at River Bend that Sam had stopped caring about the reason why she was with her so much.
She cared now. She cared a whole lot now. Jen was there, looking at the end of her rope, her arms crossed as they walked through the barn. Rachel was complaining about the smell from the barns clinging to her Barbour. Sam almost hoped Jen would ignore her.
It was Ryan who called out in greeting. "Hey!" He paused, looking over at his girlfriend. "Just who you were looking for, isn't that lucky?"
Jen replied, "Yeah, I was just about to come find you." Jen looked so very sad that she hadn't had the chance to come look for her.
Sam tried not to laugh. She'd ditch them too, given the first chance. "Sorry."
Jen just looked quickly at Rachel, and didn't that one look say it all? Sam quickly enacted a fast retreat, "Jen, you, uhm...mentioned you would...uh... help me..." Sam didn't know what for, though. She knew Jen would pick up her slack. She did not care that she looked like a babbling fool in front of Rachel, and the realization was freeing.
"Right!" Jen looked so relieved and overjoyed that Sam knew she had said the right thing. "Let's go do that...thing, then. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting."
Rachel took no offense as she said, "Well, I simply had things to do, Jennifer. I can't be bothered when you decide..." Rachel broke off then, something odd crossing her face. Sam didn't like the expression one bit. "I'd like to come, if I may." Rachel changed tracks. What was this?
Sam cursed internally. Jake knew exactly what she was trying to do, but he wasn't much help, darn him and Quinn. They did not understand Girl Code in the slightest. There went stealing Jen away and being the best friend in the history of ever. There was no way out when Ryan chimed in, "Let's just all go together, then. Jen?"
Jen smiled, and agreed. Sam bit on her lip, as she met Jake's questioning gaze. No, she had no clue what was going on with Rachel Slocum.
I'm a freak, I can't relate to anyone
Look at me! I'm the black sheep on the run
I've battled my encounters, fought in all the wars
and what I've come to see is that my worst enemy is me
But I can't fight myself forever, it's a life of misery
And although no one can tell I'm a freak, I'm a freak
I've got a smile on my face but it's the sad reality
I'm always in my own head, I'm a freak, I'm a freak
I'm a Freak, Wise Girl
Despite the crowd they had become a part of, Sam was glad she had decided to come to the fair. Quinn did get his ice cream, and so did everyone else. Sam personally enjoyed the sweetness of the treat in the cooling fall air. She had come to realize that she didn't much care one way or another about Rachel anymore. She wasn't jealous of her good looks, or her easy way of moving, not anymore. Rachel hadn't earned those things, they weren't things to be jealous of. Really, Rachel thought she was a mean girl, but Sam, given their separation, had come to see her for the normal girl that she was.
Nobody was intimidating after knowing, and coming to love, Matrona. In fact, in coming to see her own darkness, Sam knew that if there was going to be a mean girl contest between them, that Sam would win hands down. She'd learned a thing or two from the Claw, and throwing shade was an olympic sport to that girl. Rachel was still Rachel, and she was still beautiful and everything Sam would never be, but Sam had realized that she didn't need to be any of those things to be happy.
They weren't alike, and they would never get along, but Sam no longer cared about the things that had made her jealous of Rachel in the first place. To even consider the things that she had valued then as important now was laughable. Somehow, the accident had changed her. She had grown up quickly, and with no room to slow down or make a second guess herself when going about it. She was no longer jealous of Rachel's sociability, her ease, because the little shred of ease in her corner of the world that Sam had earned meant more to her. She knew where every bit of herself had come from, and Sam realized that she wouldn't give up what parts of herself she had found for anything. The accident had changed her, and Sam wasn't sure she really and truly wanted to go back to the old way, anymore. It was a jarring moment. Was she happier this way, or was there no real way to compare then then with their now? All there really was was now, and there was no might have been that she was willing to gamble for. "Careful." Jake called her attention to the fact that her ice cream was going to fall over if she didn't straighten her hand.
Sam did, and licked away the drip quickly. "I was thinking." Sam replied, looking over at the rest of the crowd that was passing them by, mothers and children, and couples and families. Jake leaned over from the bale that he was using as a seat, and tried to see what she was seeing.
"Yeah." Jake replied. Sam found that the fact that she couldn't get up to where the seating area was wasn't that a big deal. It annoyed her that she couldn't, of course, because she should be able to get there, as should anyone who wanted to be there.
The few steps up to the seating area in the building behind them were not conducive to accessibility, and Sam was enraged for all of the people that didn't have someone to go to the window, buy her ice cream that she wanted, and sit with her outside in the fading light. Selfishly, she had been glad to escape their crowd and have time with just Jake, time to just be, just let the world swirl around them and feel, together, that their own tiny slice of this messed up planet made sense for one brilliant, breathtaking, simple, moment. It should have been meaningless, but because they were here, together, finally, it meant so much more.
Still, she planned to use the information to make changes somehow. No one should be denied ice cream. "Funny how we didn't even think of those stairs." No one had thought about it, or if they had, they hadn't mentioned how inaccessible this barn was to her. Sam wasn't offended by their oversight, because it told her that they didn't see the chair, even though she did feel a twinge of guilt and self-loathing when she realized that she would not be able to get inside.
It passed because she had no choice but to make it pass. She was tired of holding on to things and missing moments that mattered over things that did not. It wasn't that she couldn't get up them if she tried. It just wasn't safe to leave the chair, and really, she did not see the point of conforming just to be like other people. She wasn't. And finally, maybe, sort of, she was kind of okay with that. Eric Clapton floated over the breeze, contrasting with someone's fiddle in the distance. It was her favorite Clapton song. "It's hot in there anyway." Jake agreed.
She didn't have what Rachel had. She had more, and for once, she didn't care if people saw that moreness as difference because they didn't understand it. She didn't care what they thought when they saw Jake, with his good looks and his big heart, next to her. She didn't care what they assumed about her, because sitting out here like this was all she really wanted. "I didn't want to come today, because I knew that there would be challenges." Sam did not mention all of the times someone had cut her off, or the moments her chair had gotten stuck, or all of the times that she had felt a little bit out of step with the world around her.
She did not tell Jake that, while she wasn't jealous of Rachel, that Jen's simple ability to not be stared at or be questioned or talked about, was something she envied from time to time. People looked at Jen, and they saw her for who and what she was, a smart, beautiful, hard-working girl whose jeans and boots told the story of her life as easily as her chunky sweater and her geeky t-shirt did. "I just didn't know that I wouldn't care all that much."
Jake paused, ice cream forgotten. "How come?" Sam watched a small child go by, pushing his own stroller as his mother did her very best to corral a hopped up toddler, a school aged girl, and a husband who seemed to be talking off her ears. The woman looked overjoyed.
Sam saw a young couple walk by. There was a girl, and a guy. The girl looked strong, and moved easily. Sam knew her at once as someone who lived her life around horses. She was hanging off of her boyfriend, looking for all the world to see as the perfect girl. Sam felt a flare of jealousy, over what she did not know, maybe it was the way her boots touched the dirt when she moved. Maybe it was the unchallenged way in which Sam just knew, just saw the horsiness about her, in a way that people would never again see with her. Then she looked again and saw, really saw, the look on the girl's face. She looked...sad, lost. Sam felt a pang of empathy with her. Nobody's life was perfect, and Sam figured she would rather her own challenges, because she still ended up with chocolate ice cream and Jake to share it with. Sam thought about all of the things the challenges in life had taught her, and realized that all of her struggles had led up to this imperfectly perfect, timeless moment. It had, in some crazy, messed up way, been worth it.
Sam licked her ice cream, biting into the cone. She chewed, and said, "Because, if I gave them up, what else about myself would I be trading in or forgetting?"
Sam flicked a glance over at Jake. He knew what she meant. After a second, she added, dragging her teeth across the ice cream, "Besides, it's too hot in there." She grinned, knowing that the barn would have kept their freezing hands warm as they ate their ice cream.
In my faded leather jacket and my weathered Brogan shoes
A chill north wind was blowin' but the spring was comin' on
As I wondered to myself just how long I had been gone
Stepped into the hall and saw all my friends were there
and I wanted you to see them all; I wished that you were there
I looked across the room and saw you standin' on the stair
And when I caught your eye I saw you break into a grin
It feels so good feelin' good again
Feelin' Good Again, Robert Earl Keen
The title song is an Eric Clapton song that Sam mentions in the text. Also, I picked "How Lovely..." ironically. None of what Sam was handling internally was lovely, and I wanted to contrast the fluff definition of the song with the difficulties that women often face.
This was a semi-epilogue, set some weeks in the future. It's a trailer to Part Two, which will have its own title and its own arc. I am now marking "Run" complete.
Thank you for this. I release it to the wind, and hope the story-the one your heart finds within these words-means as much to you as writing the words upon the page has meant to me.
Guest: You'll have to wait a few weeks, tops! Promise!