Jack POV:
Two years and I haven't seen her. Not a day goes by I don't regret signing the papers. I don't understand why she ran. It's not like her—or is it? She ran away when she was sixteen. She ran away to New York when she was twenty-two. Maybe I should have seen this coming.
She won't return my phone calls, not that I blame her. She gave me what I couldn't give myself—a second chance.
I've been divorced for 15 months now at Maria's request. I didn't give a damn either way because once Sam was gone, my life meant nothing to me.
I know Danny goes to Chicago to visit her once a month. He won't tell me anything about her, other then she's "fine and doing well." I'm sure Samantha insisted on that.
I've called Samantha about several cases, but she's always professional on the phone. She pretends that she's forgotten me, and my biggest fear is that maybe she has. Maybe she's moved on with her life. I know I haven't, though.
I board the aircraft for my direct flight to Chicago. Van Doren insisted I take a week's vacation someplace and that was the only place I could imagine going. I only realized how much she meant to me—and how my life was meaningless—once she had left. It wasn't that I didn't care for her before; I just didn't realize to what extent.
Since Samantha is still a federal agent, I've been able to locate her permanent address in the suburbs. I never imagined her getting a home. Did she start a family?
I feel my stomach tense at the thought. It's been only two years. I'm sure that much hasn't changed. Besides, she's Samantha Spade. She's never attached herself to a man—well, not until we got involved. What if she found someone better, someone who could give her everything I couldn't?
I let out a sigh and buckle my seatbelt before closing my eyes. I guess if she's really happy, then I should be happy for her. I just want to see her, to make sure she's really okay. I suppose part of the reason for my concern is that Danny visits her once a month. As far as I know, she never comes here. Not that I blame her....but still.
I relax into my seat and try to sleep on the direct flight to O'Hare.
Once we're in Chicago, I grab my luggage and rent a car. I check into a hotel, cringing at the cost, but knowing I can't ask Samantha if I can stay with her. Besides, it wouldn't surprise me if she never wanted to see me again.
After I get my room, I unpack my things and pull out a map to find the small town where she lives and directions on how to get there.
Maybe I should call first? I doubt she'd agree to see me, but just showing up might be worse. I eye my watch and figure I might as well go before it gets any later.
I head for the rental car and follow the directions from downtown Chicago to the suburbs. In under an hour I pull off the highway and follow the directions to her house. She doesn't live far from the main road, which was probably a wise decision, since she has to travel downtown for work everyday.
I can't understand why she moved to the suburbs, though. I always thought of her as a bright lights city kind of girl.
I pull up in front of the single family home and see the neatly trimmed grass. The neighborhood is filled with children playing outside, and it surprises me that this is the life Samantha chose to live. She is the last person I would have predicted this for.
I step out from the car, eye the address and her house again. It's two stories and moderately sized. I'm sure it wasn't cheap and this thought alone scares me. How can she afford living here on her own? Maybe she has settled down—with someone else.
I ring the doorbell and hear footsteps on the other side.
"Just a second!" she calls out and I let out a sigh of relief hearing her voice. She pulls back the door, carrying a young baby in her arms. "Jack?" Her mouth drops when she sees me on the doorstep.
"Who is it?" I hear another female's voice from the back hall and she peaks her head out. It must be Samantha's sister because she looks remarkably like Sam.
"Come in," Samantha offers.
"Here," her sister offers to take the baby and Samantha's face turns a light shade of red.
"Thanks, Julia."
"Your sister?" I clarify.
"Yeah."
"So she's okay then?" I question. Samantha heads into the kitchen, opens the well-stocked fridge and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade. "You want some?"
"Sure." She hands me the glass and I feel my heart break at seeing a wedding ring on your finger. "You're married?"
Her index finger and thumb move to the gold band, toying with it. "Engaged."
"Were you going to invite me to the wedding?"
"Jack," she closes her eyes and moves her hand to shield her face. "He loves me," she points out, "and he loves Caleb."
"Caleb—he's your son?"
"Yes," she nods.
"When did you--" my voice trails off.
"Not until I got here."
"Oh." So her fiancé got her pregnant. It's nice of him to marry her now.
"Jack, he's a good man."
"You love him?"
She shrugs. "He makes me happy and he loves Caleb. What more can I ask for?"
"I can make you happy."
"No, Jack." She shakes her head.
"I've been divorced for over a year."
"Maybe you should have come sooner. Or maybe you shouldn't have come at all."
"Samantha, please don't do this."
"Do what? I'm trying to move on, Jack. I'm trying to live the life you couldn't give me. Is that so horrible?"
"I want to give you that."
"It's too late," she retorts.
"I still love you, Sam." My eyes plead with hers and she stares at her hands. She's obviously uncomfortable, and it tells me she must still feel something.
"Samantha." I hear Julia's voice as she carries in Caleb. "He wants you."
"Come here," she smiles, holding out her hands to accept her son.
"How old is he?"
"Fifteen months," she answers, putting him in her lap and bouncing him on her leg. He crawls around, trying to climb up as he works on standing on her lap and she holds him in place. "I didn't leave because I was pregnant, Jack. I want you to know that." My eyes meet hers.
"I don't understand."
"He's your son," she whispers, clutching on to his tiny hand as he steadies himself on her lap.
Two years and I haven't seen her. Not a day goes by I don't regret signing the papers. I don't understand why she ran. It's not like her—or is it? She ran away when she was sixteen. She ran away to New York when she was twenty-two. Maybe I should have seen this coming.
She won't return my phone calls, not that I blame her. She gave me what I couldn't give myself—a second chance.
I've been divorced for 15 months now at Maria's request. I didn't give a damn either way because once Sam was gone, my life meant nothing to me.
I know Danny goes to Chicago to visit her once a month. He won't tell me anything about her, other then she's "fine and doing well." I'm sure Samantha insisted on that.
I've called Samantha about several cases, but she's always professional on the phone. She pretends that she's forgotten me, and my biggest fear is that maybe she has. Maybe she's moved on with her life. I know I haven't, though.
I board the aircraft for my direct flight to Chicago. Van Doren insisted I take a week's vacation someplace and that was the only place I could imagine going. I only realized how much she meant to me—and how my life was meaningless—once she had left. It wasn't that I didn't care for her before; I just didn't realize to what extent.
Since Samantha is still a federal agent, I've been able to locate her permanent address in the suburbs. I never imagined her getting a home. Did she start a family?
I feel my stomach tense at the thought. It's been only two years. I'm sure that much hasn't changed. Besides, she's Samantha Spade. She's never attached herself to a man—well, not until we got involved. What if she found someone better, someone who could give her everything I couldn't?
I let out a sigh and buckle my seatbelt before closing my eyes. I guess if she's really happy, then I should be happy for her. I just want to see her, to make sure she's really okay. I suppose part of the reason for my concern is that Danny visits her once a month. As far as I know, she never comes here. Not that I blame her....but still.
I relax into my seat and try to sleep on the direct flight to O'Hare.
Once we're in Chicago, I grab my luggage and rent a car. I check into a hotel, cringing at the cost, but knowing I can't ask Samantha if I can stay with her. Besides, it wouldn't surprise me if she never wanted to see me again.
After I get my room, I unpack my things and pull out a map to find the small town where she lives and directions on how to get there.
Maybe I should call first? I doubt she'd agree to see me, but just showing up might be worse. I eye my watch and figure I might as well go before it gets any later.
I head for the rental car and follow the directions from downtown Chicago to the suburbs. In under an hour I pull off the highway and follow the directions to her house. She doesn't live far from the main road, which was probably a wise decision, since she has to travel downtown for work everyday.
I can't understand why she moved to the suburbs, though. I always thought of her as a bright lights city kind of girl.
I pull up in front of the single family home and see the neatly trimmed grass. The neighborhood is filled with children playing outside, and it surprises me that this is the life Samantha chose to live. She is the last person I would have predicted this for.
I step out from the car, eye the address and her house again. It's two stories and moderately sized. I'm sure it wasn't cheap and this thought alone scares me. How can she afford living here on her own? Maybe she has settled down—with someone else.
I ring the doorbell and hear footsteps on the other side.
"Just a second!" she calls out and I let out a sigh of relief hearing her voice. She pulls back the door, carrying a young baby in her arms. "Jack?" Her mouth drops when she sees me on the doorstep.
"Who is it?" I hear another female's voice from the back hall and she peaks her head out. It must be Samantha's sister because she looks remarkably like Sam.
"Come in," Samantha offers.
"Here," her sister offers to take the baby and Samantha's face turns a light shade of red.
"Thanks, Julia."
"Your sister?" I clarify.
"Yeah."
"So she's okay then?" I question. Samantha heads into the kitchen, opens the well-stocked fridge and pulls out a pitcher of lemonade. "You want some?"
"Sure." She hands me the glass and I feel my heart break at seeing a wedding ring on your finger. "You're married?"
Her index finger and thumb move to the gold band, toying with it. "Engaged."
"Were you going to invite me to the wedding?"
"Jack," she closes her eyes and moves her hand to shield her face. "He loves me," she points out, "and he loves Caleb."
"Caleb—he's your son?"
"Yes," she nods.
"When did you--" my voice trails off.
"Not until I got here."
"Oh." So her fiancé got her pregnant. It's nice of him to marry her now.
"Jack, he's a good man."
"You love him?"
She shrugs. "He makes me happy and he loves Caleb. What more can I ask for?"
"I can make you happy."
"No, Jack." She shakes her head.
"I've been divorced for over a year."
"Maybe you should have come sooner. Or maybe you shouldn't have come at all."
"Samantha, please don't do this."
"Do what? I'm trying to move on, Jack. I'm trying to live the life you couldn't give me. Is that so horrible?"
"I want to give you that."
"It's too late," she retorts.
"I still love you, Sam." My eyes plead with hers and she stares at her hands. She's obviously uncomfortable, and it tells me she must still feel something.
"Samantha." I hear Julia's voice as she carries in Caleb. "He wants you."
"Come here," she smiles, holding out her hands to accept her son.
"How old is he?"
"Fifteen months," she answers, putting him in her lap and bouncing him on her leg. He crawls around, trying to climb up as he works on standing on her lap and she holds him in place. "I didn't leave because I was pregnant, Jack. I want you to know that." My eyes meet hers.
"I don't understand."
"He's your son," she whispers, clutching on to his tiny hand as he steadies himself on her lap.