Melt Your Heart
Thank you to everyone who's still following along with this one - I appreciate you so much.
I'm having a lot of fun with this one at the moment, and I hope you enjoy this latest installment. I thought it was about time to bring in a familiar face ;)
Chapter 27: "Here's Looking at You, Kid"
Abigail was perched at a corner table in The Bistro early the next morning, her laptop open in front of her. She'd been staring at the same webpage for a solid five minutes now, having long ago memorised the information.
"Good morning."
Stephanie's cheery greeting nearly had Abigail pouring her cappuccino all over the keyboard.
"Hi," she replied, several degrees less cheerfully. It was taking a lot of a effort not to slam the laptop closed which would, of course, not look suspicious in the slightest. She was surprised she hadn't sensed Stephanie's presence, but she had been so distracted by her own thoughts that she must've blocked it out.
"She's pretty," Stephanie commented, sliding into a chair at right angles from Abigail.
The brunette's hand shook as she set the coffee cup down, making it rattle against the saucer.
Be cool, Pershing, she cautioned herself.
"I found another Merriwick cousin," she told Stephanie, a little abruptly. She hadn't intended telling anybody yet, and certainly not until she'd discussed it with Cassie, but she needed to talk to someone about it.
"Oh," Stephanie replied, her lips curving into a smile. "I thought she looked a bit like you."
Abigail absorbed that slowly. If Stephanie was saying that her long lost cousin looked pretty, and that Abigail looked like said cousin, then did that mean that Stephanie thought she was pretty too?
Ugh, ridiculous. She was thirty, not fourteen, it didn't matter in the slightest of someone thought she was pretty or not.
Except she kind of liked the idea that Stephanie thought that about her.
"Can you…" Abigail stopped, cleared her throat. "Can you keep this to yourself for now. I haven't told Cassie yet. I got so caught up in her arrival - and the twins…"
"And being hospitalised," Stephanie added, with a look that seemed to suggest the blonde still hadn't forgiven Abigail for that debacle.
"Exactly," Abigail conceded with a nod. "I never got round to taking my post down, and now someone else has responded to it."
"Wow," Stephanie replied, genuinely pleased that Abigail was reaching out and finding family. The younger woman always seemed a little lost to her, even though she hid it well most of the time behind her bravado and acerbic wit. "I'm pleased for you."
She pushed herself up from the table as the second part of the morning rush commenced.
"Don't worry," she called back softly, tapping the side of her finger against her nose. "Your secret is safe with me."
It took Abigail another minute to be sure her hands wouldn't shake when she picked up her coffee again.
Sam had waited until he heard Cassie leave the house with the twins before he got out of bed that morning. It didn't seem fair to expect breakfast from her when she already had enough to do, and though they'd seemed to have found a shaky truce, being around each other wasn't easy on either of them.
In more ways than one.
As he stood under the shower in the master bathroom – the door firmly bolted this time – he couldn't help but replay that dark, hungry look in her eyes when she'd let her gaze roam over his half-naked body.
If it gave his ego a boost, then so be it.
He tried to convince himself that her wanting him but holding herself back was better than her appearing to not want him at all.
Yet he hadn't told her his plans, because really it wasn't any of her business - not that he didn't want it to be.
And if she thought that he was making changes in his life - changes that meant he'd be around more and keep a more regular schedule - because of her and the twins, well, he feared it was more likely to push her even further away.
He wasn't re-evaluating his life because of her, but being with her and seeing what his life could look like had certainly been a catalyst in making these changes.
She didn't need to know.
But, when he went downstairs, fully dressed with his overnight bag over his shoulder and saw the stack of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and a travel flask of what smelled like real honest-to-goodness coffee next to the note she'd left for him, he found that he wanted to tell her everything.
Cassie had slept well despite - or perhaps because of - Sam being in the house. Their paths hadn't crossed, though she had woken briefly around three in the morning, sensing him coming home from the hospital, but she fallen back to sleep moments later.
She had wondered if he'd join them for breakfast, and was both disappointed and relieved when he did not. She assuaged the guilt she felt about that by leaving out a snack and a drink (and yes, it was real coffee, but only because she'd brewed some for their actual guests) for him before she took the twins to school.
Neither Catherine or James knew that Sam had spent the night at Grey House, and she was happy to keep it that way. They would only have more questions than she had the fortitude to answer. She was confused enough about the situation, and she didn't want to make things more complicated for her children.
His pipes should be fixed today, and then he'd be safely back in his own house, which was definitely for the best.
For both of them.
Sam strolled into The Bistro at lunchtime, having enjoyed a leisurely walk into town in the late autumn sunshine. There were some benefits to working all hours; a casual lunch in the middle of the day was certainly one of them.
And if he was hoping that Cassie might perhaps also be getting her lunch here, well, that would be alright too. He needed to thank her for the cookies anyway.
"Hey Sam, what can I get you?" Stephanie asked, greeting him breezily from behind the counter.
He chose the special, and stayed chatting with her while she fixed his coffee. Something which he quickly regretted.
"So, Sam, what exactly is going on with you and Cassie?" Stephanie queried.
Sam was pretty sure his groan was audible. This was what you got for trying to be sociable.
"It's just that," Stephanie continued, pouring milk into a metal jug. "We planned the surprise birthday barbecue for her, and the two of you were practically a fire hazard at the Halloween party but…well, Abigail pretty much told me to mind my own business, which, frankly, is rich coming from her."
Sam chuckled at the fond amusement in Stephanie's eyes, and relaxed the grip his knuckles had found around the edge of the counter.
"We're not together anymore," he stated simply, trying not to react to the crestfallen look on Stephanie's face.
"I'm sorry to hear that," she said, briefly touching the palm of her hand to the back of his. "It can't be easy for her."
Sam paused, unsure of what she meant.
"When I got divorced," she continued. "I couldn't even think about the possibility of ever dating anyone else…it took a long time for me to be ready to open up my heart again." And, if she was honest, she'd never been as fearless with her heart since.
"Yeah, I get that," he replied. Linda's infidelity had certainly done a number on him.
"Do you?" Stephanie asked shrewdly, reminding him a little of Abigail and, by extension, Cassie.
"I don't know," he said quietly. "I can't imagine what she's lost because I never had it in the first place. Certainly not with Linda."
"Me neither," Stephanie said with a rueful sigh. "Just don't give up on her, okay?"
"I don't plan to," he assured her.
Stephanie handed him his coffee, giving his hand a quick squeeze as she passed it over.
"I'll bring your lunch over in a sec," she told him, hesitating to watch him cross the room to a corner table.
If two people like Cassie and Sam, who were so obviously meant to be together, couldn't make it work, what hope did the rest of them have?
Sam was disappointed to find that, no, Cassie had not chosen to stop by The Bistro for lunch. He checked his watch, saved his progress on the medical journal article he was reading on his tablet, and made his way back to his house to greet the plumber.
He was caught between hoping it was an easy fix, so he could get back to living in his own house again, and wanting it to be delayed so he could stay in Cassie's orbit just a little while longer.
Not that his path has crossed hers since their conversation in the kitchen the previous afternoon had smoothed out the awkwardness of their encounter in the bathroom.
When he arrived back at his house, sweating a little as the day had grown increasingly mild for mid-November, Sam saw that Cassie's car was in its usual spot outside Grey House. That didn't mean she was home, though. Like him, and many other of the town's residents, she liked to get around on foot if she could.
Sam waited outside, cooling off from his walk, and pacing a little. Hands in his pockets, he looked up and saw the familiar figure of the town's handyman, and everyone's favourite surrogate father-figure.
"Right, let's see what your trouble is, eh kid?"
Sam grinned fondly, and waved the older man over.
Cassie shepherded the twins home from school, suppressing the urge to chivvy them along when they wanted to stop and look at every fallen leaf (at least it seemed that way) and decide which colour was their favourite. It was sweet, and usually she would have indulged them, but she had a million other things she needed to do.
But were those things more important than the obvious delight on her children's faces? In the grand scheme of things, no, they were not.
So, when they finally arrived back at Grey House, both James and Catherine had handfuls of their favourite leaves, and apparently supervising a craft project was in Cassie's future.
She deposited them at the little table on the back patio, looking a little longingly at the barbecue, which hadn't been used since her birthday party, and couldn't help but feel a hitch in her chest at how much she missed the man who had built it for her, just because she said she'd like one.
She rubbed her hand over her heart, but she shook the memory away, setting James and Catherine up with paper and glue. She'd learned the hard way that, if possible, it was better for them to do these activities outside.
Especially so if cousin Abigail was also involved.
Now that Cassie came to think of it, cousin Abigail had been making herself scarce recently. Cassie had a feeling - definitely exacerbated by her Merriwick gifts - that Abigail was up to something.
In her experience, that spelled trouble.
And not always the good kind.
Deciding that it was definitely a problem for another time, Cassie left the kids to their own devices for a few minutes to retrieve the mail from the mailbox. As she stepped out of the front door, she saw Sam on his own driveway, deep in conversation with a grey haired man. Cassie thought she had seen him around town, but she couldn't place him. He was holding a battered dark blue toolbox in his left hand, so Cassie thought it was safe to assume that he was the plumber coming to resolve Sam's pipe situation.
She grabbed the mail and was about to head back inside when Sam spotted her.
"Hey, Cassie!" he called, waving at her with a brilliant grin on his face. "Come here, there's someone I want you to meet."
Cassie smiled back at him; she didn't really have any choice in the matter. She hadn't seen him look so happy in a while, and hated having to acknowledge that she was most likely the cause.
Tucking the envelopes she was holding under her arm, Cassie crossed the tarmac driveway to meet the two men.
"Cassie, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine, who just happens to be the best plumber in Middleton," he said, gesturing towards the grey haired man. "This is George O'Hanrahan."
Cassie smiled at him, offering her hand for him to shake it, which he did, warmly, his eyes sparkling.
"It's nice to finally meet you, kid."
"It's a pleasure to meet you too, George."
"So, how's life treating you, then?" George asked, following Sam inside his house, the battered blue toolbox bumping against his leg.
As George was behind him, Sam couldn't see the grin on the older man's face, but he could hear it in his voice. Frankly, he didn't even know where to start in answering that question, but as close as he was to his own father, George was sort of everyone's surrogate dad, so it was easy to talk to him.
"These last couple of months have been interesting," he finally said, walking across the kitchen toward the coffee maker before he remembered that he didn't have any running water.
George's eyes sparkled as he set the toolbox down on the kitchen island.
"Would that be because of the lovely lady you just introduced me to?"
"Yes," he replied simply, because what was the point in lying. And he had the feeling that George's question had been purely rhetorical.
"I can see why," he said with a smile. "I never would have expected Sam Radford to fall for a woman with children though."
That stung, but not because there was any malice in it from George. No, it was always took him back to Linda and her bitter, vengeful lie that he didn't have what it took to be a good father. Even though they'd both said things they'd later regretted during the most acrimonious phase of their marriage's dying gasp, that had always stuck with Sam.
But he loved Cassie kids already, and given half the chance, he would happily raise them as his own.
George watched Sam carefully, his hand loosely wrapped around the handle of the toolbox; he knew a man in love when he saw one. He wondered if Sam knew that himself yet, or if he was still floating down that river in Egypt.
"The three of them would be lucky to have you," George finally said into the silence.
Sam shrugged his shoulder. "We'll see," he replied. "I'm trying to give her time, and space, but that's easier said than done when I've had to stay at her house."
He wished that memory of her in the master bathroom would stop following him around, especially as he couldn't help but wonder if she thought about it, too.
"Well, let's see if we can find out what the problem is, shall we, kid?"
Sam nodded, watching as George got to work, and trying to figure out whether the older man was referring to the plumbing, his relationship with Cassie, or both.