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Part 2

Age: 12 Years 3 Months

Albert was confined to his room with a badly broken leg, which suited him just fine. Taking his meals in his room and handing assignments over daily was worth the pain. Occasionally one of the other young residents would poke their head in his room to try to taunt him or to tell him some piece of gossip that they were under the illusion held actual interest for him. Certainly it was a reprieve from the rabble and their pointless noise. Shortly before his injury the staff in an effort to integrate him socially, had started forcing him to stay in the recreation room and watch television with the rest of the children from time to time. Young Newquay was grateful to be free of the torture of the idiot box, he didn't suffer fools gladly and that included their trappings.

"Hey your highness, looks like you ain't the only one whose parents don't want you. Got another reject," a voice mocked from the doorway.

"Doubtless I will be unable to dissuade you from your oh so fascinating verbal bent," Albert Jackson Newquay answered mockingly looking up from his wheel chair by the window where he had been reading. "Pray do continue your pointless revelation."

Billy Watson didn't know everything Albert had said, but he never did. The kid was a freak the 14 year old decided and continued his announcement. "Hot little blonde with a nice ass. I'd bang the hell out of her."

Albert sat his book down and wheeled over to his spinet piano. Pain ridden fingers moved with dexterity and Chopin's Ballade drove Billy away in short order. Of all the residents of the orphanage, he hated Billy the most. One simply did not speak of girls in those terms, even the mentally inferior ones that resided here. Billy was forever saying the words: tits, ass, banging, screwing, and other less polite terminology. Frequently he would claim to have nailed this girl or discuss how that one wanted him. Albert doubted the verity of Billy's claims and had overheard one of the girls warn another to watch out for him that he tried to touch her.

Two nights later, Albert's door was open slightly as he caressed the keys of his piano and sang softly. He was aware from the slight draft when the door opened further then the sound of the door closing, he continued his song, though his senses were on alert. As he inhaled, the scent of roses wafted gently toward him. Just as the last note sounded, the presence was very close, he tensed and got ready to turn around. Ready to give a scathing speech to whomever had invaded his space, the words were cut off by a soft feminine voice.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but won't you please play some more?" the voice entreated as the scent of roses perfumed the air beside him.

He looked up and his dark eyes met with sky blue. Standing beside him was a girl, his age, maybe a little younger. Blonde hair spilled about her shoulders and an oversized white flannel nightgown enveloped her. An air of sadness clung to her as she studied him and waited for his answer. For several moments they stared at one another in silent reflection, neither moving, scarce even breathing. Shaken, he began to slowly play again and he was rewarded with a smile from his visitor. She walked to a wooden chair, looked up at him and inclined her head for permission to sit. As he nodded assent, she drug the chair to the piano and sat beside his wheelchair. He played until his hands ached and his arms were trembling from the effort. Just as the pain was getting to be so great he feared he'd have to stop, she stood up.

"This was the nicest time I've had since-," she trailed off. Then on impulse, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. Softly she murmured, "Thank you."

A crimson blush stole across her pale face and she dashed from the room, leaving Albert in a daze. Her brief caress was the first physical affection or genuine affection of any sort he'd been given in years. For nearly an hour he sat in silence, tears that he thought no longer existed within him coursed down his cheeks. Even though he hadn't yet found out her name, Albert Jackson Newquay swore to protect and love the blonde angel until the day he died. For the first time in his life, Albert felt love and no matter what the cost he would never let it go.

Sleep didn't come easily to Albert as he lay thinking about his visitor. She looked to be roughly his age with wisdom beyond her years lying sadly within her blue eyes. He wondered if her family really had cast her off, he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to send his blonde angel away. He didn't even know her name, but he somehow he knew she was his. As he finally drifted off to sleep, Albert Jackson Newquay, tried to imagine what her name might be.

The next day, when he took his breakfast in his room, he was pleasantly surprised to see his visitor from last night carrying in a large tray. He cursed his injury as he wished he could run to the door and help her with the tray, but he wheeled over and asked if he could do anything.

"I've got it," she replied and carried it over to the small alcove that had a couple chairs and a low coffee table.

Albert closed the door and wheeled over to her. Because he was a boarder of sorts, his parents paid for him to have larger quarters than any of the other residents at the orphanage. Even if they didn't want him, they did expect him to maintain a certain position in life.

"When I found out that you have to eat up here, I thought maybe you would be lonely." Sam told him and then confided, "You're not like the rest of them. It's a little scary here."

Feeling overjoyed to hear her mirror his feelings, he responded with a smile. "I would be honored if you joined me Miss-?"

"Sam. My name is Samantha but everyone calls me Sam."

"Then I shall call you Samantha, because I don't want to be like everyone," he teased.

She handed him one of the plates of toast and egg and took a bite from her own plate, "Are you really a prince?"

"A prince?" he asked confused, then the meaning dawned on him. "No, some of the clowns just call me Prince Albert to showcase their inferiority complexes."

"So what's your full name?"

"Albert Jackson Newquay."

"Hhmm, Al, Bert, Jack" Samantha considered it. Then she declared, "Jack! I think I'll call you Jack."

He stared in disbelief as she dismissed his first name and renamed him.

"Well, Jack is a much nicer name and if you don't want to call me what everyone else does, than I think it's only fair don't you?"

"I guess." Trying it on his tongue he murmured, "Jack. I'm Jack. All right Samantha, for you I'll be Jack."

She smiled and then her smile faded. "Jack, can I ask you something that's not nice, but that I want to know about you?" When he shrugged, she proceeded, "Is is true that you have parents even though you stay here?"

Jack sighed, "For what little good it does me, yes. Billy told me the same thing about you."

"Yes. No. Well my Mom died about two years ago and my Dad is really busy so I live with my Aunt. She's real sick at the moment so I had to leave and come here because a friend of hers is on some board in the city here-" she trailed off and then confessed miserably. "I hate it here. I miss my friend Angel and the girls here aren't like at home. They're so mean and they don't talk properly, they use bad words and say ain't."

Jack nodded sympathetically, he hated life here as well. He wasn't sure what to say but he tried valiantly, "Everything will be all right Samantha."

Overwhelmed by emotion and hearing kind words for the first time since leaving her Aunt's house, Samantha began to cry. "I want to go home. Why did my Mom have to die? I miss my friends and my school and even Ms. Nielson the lady who runs the bookmobile. What if my Aunt dies too, Jack? Won't my Dad have to take me then? I don't want to stay here and I'm scared and I-" she sobbed.

Jack moved painfully out of his wheelchair and into the chair next to her. He reached out to pat her shoulder and she looked up at him with wet glassy tears. As he gently touched her shoulder he vowed, "I'll take care of you Samantha."

"You will?"

"Until the day I die, my Samantha."

She threw herself into his lap, careless of his cast encased leg. It was slightly uncomfortable and Jack thought he heard a rib crack in his thin chest, but he didn't care. His Samantha could break every bone in his body if it would make her happy. God, he decided had brought him an angel and he would cherish her. Wrapping his arms around her, Jack reveled as her silky hair brushed against his cheek. Slowly her sobbing subsided and she raised her head from his chest and looked into his eyes.

Time stopped as they gazed deeply into one another's eyes and the two lost souls found a kindred spirit. In silent communion, Jack and Samantha as they had named one another, started the game neither would fully understand for a long time to come. Hesitantly Jack raised a hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears. A painful knot of long ignored emotions swelled in his throat, this was more physical human contact than he could ever remember having before. He wished he knew what to say to his pretty friend to make her feel better, but was at a loss. Finally he decided to try asking her.

"Samantha, what makes you happy?"

"Other than going home?" She nestled against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. When his arms went around her, Sam felt contented. Back home she would have never dreamed of getting so close to someone she barely knew. But there was something about this boy that was different from anyone she'd ever met and since she'd come to this awful place, this was the first time she'd felt safe.

Softly Jack said, "Talk to me. Come on, talk to me. Talk to me Samantha."

"Reading. I love to read," she responded.

"So do I, while you're here you're welcome to borrow my books," Jack gestured to the shelves. "There are more up in the attic, but that will have to wait until my cast comes off next week."

"What happened?" Sam looked at his cast and shifted slightly in his lap.

"It's not important," Jack dismissed his injury. "What else makes you happy my Samantha?"

"Roses, I love roses. The next door neighbor Mrs. Lewis has the most beautiful rose bush, but she screams at us kids if we get near it." Quietly, Samantha confided, "Once when she was out of town I snuck over and cut one off. I couldn't help myself."

"And did you get away with it?" he teased.

Shaking her head, "I wish. Her daughter Vera was being baby-sat by my Aunt and she spotted me and told on me to both my Aunt and her Mom. I know I shouldn't have, but it was such a perfect red rose and the petals looked so velvety soft."

"Someday my Samantha, you will have all the red roses your heart could desire."

"Do you think? Some of the older girls at my school got a rose at Valentines and Angel got a carnation from a boy a little before I had to come here."

Samantha, Jack decided would have her first rose from him the moment his cast was off and he could get to a flower shop. "So what else makes you happy?"

"You do," she replied and turned scarlet the moment the words were out of her mouth. She quickly tried to cover and amended, "I mean your piano playing last night made me happy! Would you play for me Jack?"

Turning rather pink himself, he responded, "Of course Samantha."