CHAPTER 2
SUMMARY: Sam and Mercedes grow closer, but must deal with some obstacles to move forward
RATING: Teen
WARNING: Mild cursing, mentions of child abuse
EVEN THE SPARROW HAS FOUND A HOME
On a frigid Saturday afternoon, Sam and Abby sat on the floor of his living room in front of the fireplace, putting together a birdhouse from a kit that Sam bought online. The fire gave a pleasant crackle, warming their backs, as they concentrated on the task. Every once in a while, either George or Gracie would come over to them, rubbing their sleek, furry bodies against their backs, and sniff the colored wooden panels included in the kit. While Sam took the lead, Abby proved to be a good assistant, her talent for tools was quite apparent especially when she nailed the forest green roof together with great ease, and could see where each piece needed to go without Sam telling her. As they glued the brick-red back panel to the roof, Mercedes wandered into living room with a silver tray filled with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, three glasses, and a glass pitcher of milk.
"I thought you might like a snack," she said, setting the tray on the coffee table.
"Thanks," Sam said rising from the floor, "We need to let the glue dry anyway."
He and Abby sat on the couch next to Mercedes and helped themselves to sandwiches while she poured them each a glass of milk.
"Thanks for inviting us over today," Mercedes said, taking a sip of milk, "Abby loves building things."
"You're welcome. I thought she would like it."
Sam watched Abby as she munched on her sandwich, snuggled up close to her mother, and Mercedes put her arm around her, kissing the top of her head. It was such a simple show of affection, and his heart twisted a bit, because that was a scene he wanted with Quinn, and now he feared he would never have it. Sighing, he pushed the thought out of his head, he had a lot to be thankful for, and he never wanted to be ungrateful for the good things in his life.
"Where will you hang the birdhouse?" Mercedes asked.
"From my favorite oak tree out back."
"Why is it your favorite?"
"It looks like a tree in my grandparents' backyard; my family used to go there every Sunday after church and have dinner. And after we ate, we'd go outside to play, and we always climbed that tree. Looking out my window, and seeing that tree makes me remember those times."
"That's sweet."
"I'm a sentimental sap."
Mercedes shook her head and laughed; she picked up a sandwich, and bit into it. Sam liked the coziness and warmth of the fire, and sharing a quiet afternoon with Mercedes and Abby. As they ate their sandwiches, the only the sounds in the living room were the fireplace crackling and the cats purring on the window seat, curled up in silver fur bundles. When she finished her sandwich and milk, Mercedes walked across the room and began sifting through a box of old record albums shoved against the wall.
"You've heard of iPods, haven't you?" she said, teasing him, as she lifted a dusty Sylistics album from the box.
Sam laughed.
"Maybe so. But there's nothing like hearing the pop and hiss of a record."
"Play this one for me," She said, handing him the album, "I heard you playing it before."
"Really? I didn't know it was that loud."
"Don't worry, it wasn't, it was very faint."
Sam got up and plugged in his old record player that sat atop an empty cherrywood liquor cabinet that was coated with a fine layer of dust. He put the album on and after a few pops and hisses, the first few notes of Betcha By Golly Wow filled the living room. Mercedes swayed her head to the music while Abby sat on the couch, watching them.
"Now this is a real slow jam," she said, closing her eyes, she began to sing along:
There's a spark of magic in your eyes
Candyland appears each time you smile
Never thought that fairy tales came true
But they come true when I'm near you
You're a genie in disguise
Full of wonder and surprise
Sam's ears perked up when he heard her sing.
"Nice voice you got there."
Mercedes opened her eyes, and she looked up at him, as if only remembering he was in the room with her. Sam loved the serene expression she wore when she sang. He held out his hand to her.
"May I have this dance?"
Mercedes accepted his hand and very slowly, the two began to dance like two teenagers on a first date, Sam noticed the gap of space she kept between them, and he respected those boundaries; her hands felt so small and vulnerable, in his large, callused ones, and he had the urge to protect her from everything. That was just Sam's way; he knew that slaying dragons and climbing towers was fairytale lore, but part of him wanted to be a knight, even if the gestures weren't grand.
Sam appreciated being so close to such an attractive woman. Her full, plush figure enticed him, as did her lovely doe eyes, and flushed cheeks. As the music played, they did a sort of turning, waltz-like dance around the living room, with Abby, George and Gracie as their audience. Toward the end of the song, he dipped her gently, catching her by surprise and she laughed out loud.
"Sam!"
"What can I say? I got moves."
When the song ended, they dropped onto the couch and Abby scrambled into Mercedes lap, hugging her.
"How was our dance, sweetie, was it good?"
Abby nodded.
Mercedes kissed her cheek.
"That's how grown folks should dance. Not that damn twerking, you hear me?"
"That's right," Sam said, picking up the silver tray off of the coffee table, "I'm going to get us some water."
After he brought back bottles of water, they rested on the couch, listening to the rest of the album until Abby looked at Sam and pointed to the birdhouse.
Sam nodded.
"The glue should be dry by now. Let's finish putting it together."
They settled in front of the fireplace. All that was left to do was attach the front red panel that had a large hole for the birds to enter, and a much smaller hole beneath it for them to perch. Abby carefully screwed in the front panel. She pointed to the perch and Sam handed the long, wooden stick to her and she screwed it into the small hole. Sam attached the gold hooks to the roof and the house was complete. It was a diamond-shaped birdhouse with a sloping roof. Mercedes clapped her hands.
"Good job, you two!"
Abby looked down at the floor and smiled a little, and Sam saw a hint of a blush beneath her coffee brown cheeks. He wanted to give her a hug, but due to her sensitive nature, he thought it would be safer to pat her shoulder, which he did.
"You're a natural woodworker," he said.
Abby pulled her pink notepad out of the pocket of her overalls and wrote Sam a note:
"Thank you. I had fun."
Sam looked at the note, written in Abby's childish scrawl, and tried to keep his voice light, even though he felt a tenderness inside that overwhelmed him.
"You're welcome, Abby."
"Why don't you go outside and hang it up?" Mercedes said, nodding toward the window.
Sam turned to Abby, "Do you want to?"
Abby nodded her head. So they bundled up in their hats, coats and scarves and went outside, while Mercedes stayed behind, relaxing in front of the fire. Abby carried the birdhouse as they walked to the oak tree; snow fell gently from the gray sky above; the frozen, snow covered ground crunched under their feet. Sam kept his hand on Abby's shoulder and guided her along. When they got to the tree, they hung it from a low branch on a gold chain already attached from a previous birdhouse. They stood back and admired it for a few minutes with the wind blowing, and snow swirling all around them. Then in the middle of their tranquil peace, Sam heard a loud bang that sounded like gunfire and then it happened again, at first he was startled, then he realized it was their neighbor's old car backfiring. And poor Abby, she didn't know what it was, and she screamed and clung to Sam; her whole body shook against his.
"Abby, it's ok. That was just an old car starting, nothing to be scared of."
Abby continued to scream and cry. Sam wasn't sure what to do so he carried her back to the house, silently cursing his neighbor with that stupid old car. Her screams grew louder and louder and Sam felt them in his heart; it was like the sound tortured her. Upon opening the door, Mercedes rushed up to them, wearing her coat.
"I heard Abby scream and I was about to come outside, what happened?" She said, taking Abby from his arms and trying to soothe her.
"My next door neighbor's car backfired and it scared her."
Mercedes rubbed circles on Abby's back as the child continued to wail, "Come on baby, it's ok. It wasn't a gun. You're safe, ok? You're safe here with Mommy and Sam. Nobody is going to hurt you…"
Abby's screams turned to whimpers. Mercedes sat down on the stairs and rocked her in her arms, whispering to her, until she finally calmed down. She looked over at Sam.
"I'm sorry, but I have to take her upstairs. Thanks for everything."
"Will she be ok?"
Mercedes gave him a sad smile.
"I think so."
THIS WOMAN'S WORK
Later that evening, Sam went upstairs to Mercedes' apartment, with a pot of chili and a pan of cornbread. He felt awful about what happened earlier and he thought the least he could do was make dinner for them. He rang the doorbell twice and finally Mercedes answered the door. Her eyes were red and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore a green bathrobe and pink bunny slippers.
"Hi Sam," she said, trying to smile, "What's up?"
"I wanted to check on you and Abby to make sure everything was alright, and I brought you some dinner."
Mercedes took the pot and pan from him.
"Thanks, Sam, come on in. Abby is asleep."
The TV was on but the sound was turned down low. A worn copy of Wuthering Heights was lying on the couch along with a fuzzy orange blanket and a box of tissues.
"I'm putting this in the kitchen. You didn't have to make us dinner, but I appreciate it," she said over her shoulder as she walked out of the room.
"You're welcome," Sam said, sitting on the couch. He waited patiently for her to return. After they left earlier, he couldn't get Abby's screams out of his head, or that sheer look of terror on her face… he truly wanted to help but didn't know how. Mercedes came back two red mugs, and a plate of sweet rolls.
"I don't have much of an appetite, so I'll save your meal for later, but I thought you could use some tea. Now it isn't the fancy stuff that you're used to, just plain Lipton, and the rolls are store bought."
Sam smiled and took the steaming mug from her hands.
"Thanks."
They sat silently drinking their tea for a few moments and then Sam said:
"I'm really sorry about what happened and I – "
"Please it wasn't your fault. How would you have known?"
"I get that but… I don't know. And if you don't mind my saying so –"
"I look like hell, right?"
Sam shook his head, setting his mug on the coffee table.
"No, you look like you've had a rough evening. Do you want to talk?"
Mercedes stared into her mug and a few tears slid down her plump cheeks.
"Sam, sometimes, it's so hard, I just want to throw up my hands and say 'screw it' I can't do this anymore. But I can't give up. I won't give up."
Sam squeezed her shoulder.
"You're not God. You have to accept that you can't fix everything right away."
"I hate seeing her in pain. The worse feeling in the world is seeing my baby in pain."
Sam put his arm around her and she laid her head on his shoulder.
"The reason she freaked out this afternoon was because that sound reminded her of the day her father died."
"What happened?"
"My husband was shot and killed during a robbery and Abby was there. After that day she stopped talking."
Sam hadn't expected something like that and hearing about the traumatic event that made Abby mute twisted his gut.
"Jesus, I'm sorry," he said.
"And now we're trying to start over."
Sam had no words for her. What could he possibly say to her that would make her feel better? He was a childless, divorced man, seeing a therapist and just barely dragging himself out of bed everyday. What did he have to offer? He tightened his arm around her and let her cry because sometimes that's all you could do. When the tears stopped flowing he said:
"I have zero experience or knowledge about any of this, but have you taken her to a therapist?
Mercedes leaned away from him and wiped her face with a tissue.
"Yes. And it's never worked out. They all told me to wait. None of them could get through to Abby. But I've been searching for one online."
"Good. Let me know if there's anything I can do."
"I'm not asking you to take any of this on."
"I know you're not asking but I'm offering."
Mercedes yawned and gave him a hug.
"Thanks, Sam."
"You get some rest."
"I will."
Sam left her apartment, feeling heavy in his heart. Much later that night, as he lay in bed, Abby's screams haunted him.
A DAY IN THE LIFE
Mercedes liked her new job, though it was challenging. Her students reminded her of the Island of Misfit Toys: odd, strange and wonderful. She joined an online meet-up group for Special Education teachers, and she enrolled in a weekend course at the local community college about teaching kids with emotional issues. The Remington School teachers cooperated with Abby's muteness unlike her teachers in Lima whose patience wore thin, and they chastised poor Abby for her inability to speak.
So far, Abby excelled in her classes at her new school. The only problem was that she shied away from the other kids; and she spent most of her time alone or tending to the class pets. Each grade had several animals that they took care of, and her third grade class had a hamster, a goldfish, and a rabbit, all of which Abby cared for with lots of love. And if anything ever needed fixing, like a wobbly desk or loose doorknob, Abby had her trusty tool kit with her, and would hammer and nail the problem away. The janitorial staff got a kick out of her handiness with tools, calling her Little Miss Fixit and used her talents for any small jobs they had.
Mercedes hoped Abby would change and make friends with her classmates, but it didn't look like it would happen any time soon. One of her teachers, Ms. Tina Cohen-Chang, especially liked Abby and looked out for her. She encouraged Abby with praise and would bring her books she thought she might like. She and Mercedes became friends and usually ate lunch together in the Teacher's Lounge at noon. One cold December afternoon, during lunch, Tina asked Mercedes if Abby had any friends at home.
"George and Gracie," Mercedes said, as she took her bowl of vegetable soup out of the microwave. Sam gave the soup to her and Abby, saying he made way too much, and just like all of his culinary creations, it was heavenly.
Tina opened up her McDonald's bag and took out her Big Mac and fries.
"Are they her age?" she asked.
Mercedes laughed.
"I don't know how old they are. They're a couple of tabby cats that belong to my landlord."
"Oh," Tina said, her face disappointed, "You'd think the Abby would feel comfortable around the other kids because they all suffer from something and understand what it's like to be different."
"I know, but she seems happier, and I'm thankful for that."
Tina pointed to the soup.
"Is he still cooking for you?"
"He doesn't cook for me."
"Every time I tell you how good your lunch looks, you always say 'my landlord made it'," Tina said, while opening up several packets of ketchup and drowning her fries in the thick, red, sauce.
Mercedes stirred the soup before taking a bite, her mouth flooded with the rich flavors of tomatoes, carrots, potatoes and fresh herbs from Sam's windowsill herbal garden.
"He's not my personal chef."
"He's your personal something," Tina said, giving a Cheshire Cat smile, "Most landlords don't cook gourmet meals for their tenants."
"The only thing personal between us are the personal checks I write to him for the rent," Mercedes said.
"Whatever you say Ms. Tinsley."
Mercedes wanted to talk about something else. It was like Tina had found her diary and was reading it word for word out loud to an audience of snickering teenagers; it was embarrassing and exposed her, but underneath, a tiny sense of guilt lingered whenever she felt that flutter of attraction for Sam in her belly. And to her disappointment, she and Sam hadn't seen much of each other these past few weeks aside from his dropping off meals. He bought a couple more houses and was busy flipping them; and her work and class schedule left her busy most of the time. But even though they didn't spend time together, Sam managed to do little things for her like cleaning off her car in the morning after the night's snowfall, helping her carry the groceries to her apartment, taking pictures of the birdhouse and sliding them under the door so Abby could see that a cute red cardinal had taken up residence in the pretty little house. And late at night, she would hear Bobby Womack crooning through the air vent into her apartment and sometimes Sam's voice joined him.
"What are you and Mike doing for Christmas?" She asked, hoping Tina would take the hint and drop the subject of Sam.
"We're flying out to California to visit his parents. They haven't seen Charlotte for a while."
Charlotte was their adopted baby girl. Her biological parents were black and Asian; and her skin was the color of mahogany and she had lovely slanted, almond shaped eyes. When the couple first saw the adorable baby girl, they immediately wanted to adopt her; no one else wanted her due to her health problems, but after she had extensive heart surgery, she was doing much better, and no longer needed a feeding tube.
"That sounds nice," Mercedes said, staring down at the table, trying to keep up her cheery mood, because this was their first Christmas without Shane. She had planned on seeing Aunt Josephine, but then her aunt informed that she was going a on a cruise with her choir group, and that they would get together sometime after the holidays. Mercedes briefly wondered if she was doing this out of spite. Tina patted her shoulder.
"What are your plans?"
"I don't know yet. I worry about this being a trigger for Abby, since her father is gone. I think maybe we should stay home, in case she has an episode."
"I wish I had some advice to give you."
"I know you do. It's not exactly a situation with a black or white answer," Mercedes said as she finished off the last of the soup, a lonely sadness filled her heart. She didn't want to drag Tina down with her problems so she said:
"Do you have any new pictures of Charlotte?"
Tina nodded and smiled. She picked up her big, black purse off of the empty chair beside her and pulled out her phone.
"She's wearing the red velvet dress you gave her. Take a look."
Mercedes gazed down at the phone, and saw a chubby Charlotte laughing at the camera and wearing the beautiful red dress trimmed in white lace and red ribbons. Her round face was so sweet and cute that Mercedes wished she could pull her out of the picture and give her a kiss. A big red bow sat atop her mass of black curls.
"She's a cutie pie," Mercedes said, "I'm glad you liked the dress."
"Red is definitely my baby girl's color," Tina said, "Mike took a million pictures, he's such a sucker for her."
Like Shane was for Abby, Mercedes thought to herself, but she never said it out loud.
ooo
The rest of the afternoon flew past in a flurry of singing choruses, tuning instruments, and an incident with a student named Jack, who suffered from a severe anxiety disorder. Jack was 10 years old with a thatch of bright red hair and pensive blue eyes that never stayed focused too long on any particular thing. During class that day, they were learning about string instruments and each student took a turn handling the violins, cellos, and guitars. When it was Jack's turn to touch the instruments, he said the strings would hurt him and he would bleed.
"I don't like blood," he said, covering his eyes, "The strings will hurt me."
Mercedes knelt beside him on the floor. She reached out her hand just far enough so if Jack wanted contact, he could have it.
"Halfway?"
Jack nodded and slowly inched his way toward her hand and their fingertips touched.
"Strings do bad things."
"Do you like how it sounds?"
"Yes. But they're bad."
"How?"
Jack searched her eyes, trying to see if Mercedes was as bad as the strings, and when he found no malice he said:
"He cut me with the strings."
Mercedes remained calm. She knew that some of these kids were abused and were taken out of their homes and put in foster care. An older, childless couple recently adopted Jack, and they loved him regardless of his damaged soul. Mercedes didn't ask Jack whom he was referring to; instead she said:
"Close your eyes."
"He won't hurt me will he?"
"No, Jack. You're safe."
Jack closed his eyes. She beckoned over one of the other students, a shy girl named Molly, who spoke with a lisp and could play the guitar; and she told her to play Twinkle Twinkle Little star. Molly smiled, her braces shining in the light and began to play as Mercedes sang along:
"Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are."
As she sang along with Molly's rudimentary playing, Jack's skinny, pale fingers curled around her own, and soon he sang too.
"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…"
When the song was over, his eyes remained shut, but he clung to Mercedes' hand.
"Where are you Jack?" she asked him.
"I'm here."
"Did the song sound pretty?"
"Yes."
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Do you think you can touch the strings?"
Jack opened his eyes and reached for the guitar, upon touching the strings, he cried out and pulled his hand away.
"I feel him," he said.
"It's ok, Jack, you did good today."
Jack looked up at her.
"How?"
"You tried. And that's more than most people do. I'm proud of you."
"The strings sounded pretty."
"I know and you sounded nice singing."
"Thank you."
"Do you want to go to the quiet room and lie down for the rest of the period?"
Jack nodded and Mercedes took him to the small room toward the back of the classroom; it was painted a cheerful yellow and covered with soothing pictures of baby animals and blue skies. A twin bed covered with a patchwork quilt was in the room, along with a small table that always had bottles of water sitting on it. Jack lay on the bed and closed his eyes.
"I'll leave the door open," Mercedes said.
ooo
By the end of the day, Mercedes was drained, the Jack incident broke her heart, but each day had its own anxieties and for every bad thing that happened, a good one did too and her job gave her purpose. That evening after she put Abby to bed, she relaxed with a cup of hot chocolate and watched It's a Wonderful Life. Just as she was dozing off, her doorbell rang. She knew it was Sam because outside visitors would use the door buzzer for the front door downstairs. She smoothed down her hair and glanced at herself in the hall mirror before answering the door to find Sam standing there holding a red Christmas tin decorated with holly sprigs and snowflakes.
"Here," he said handing her the tin, "I baked these cookies myself. May I come in?"
"Yes, of course."
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," he said.
"Only George Bailey's suicide. Thanks for the cookies."
Sam sat down on the couch.
"You're welcome."
Mercedes opened the tin and was impressed with the assortment: chocolate chip, sugar, oatmeal raisin, and thick squares of shortbread. She took an oatmeal raisin cookie and bit into it, savoring its cinnamon oat flavor and the sweetness of the plump raisins. It was perfectly soft and chewy, with a fresh out of the oven taste.
"This is excellent," she said, "You know you don't always have to bring me something yummy to eat when you visit, though I love that you do.
"I got into the holiday spirit," Sam said, his eyes roaming about the room, and Mercedes knew he was wondering why she had no decorations up or even a tree.
"I've been lax about decorating this year. It's our first Christmas since my husband died."
"I'm sorry."
"It's ok. But Abby is fragile, I don't want her to suddenly feel overwhelmed about her father not being here. I don't know what to do; I'm feeling it out."
Sam took a shortbread cookie and bit into it.
"What was your husband like?"
The question surprised Mercedes. People rarely asked her about Shane; she figured it was because others thought she would find it too painful. Tears came to her eyes as she spoke about the man she loved and mourned.
"He was amazing. He had this big laugh and an even bigger heart. He was Santa Claus every year at our church."
"Really?"
"Yeah, he was an awesome Santa, kids loved him. You know he always wanted what was best for people, especially kids. And he adored Abby. When she was born, he cried more than me. They were joined at the hip."
"Sounds like a great man."
"He was. When we first started dating he really helped me with my self-esteem."
"But you're so confident."
"I am. But I wasn't always like this. It took a long time for me to love myself and Shane helped me with that. I'm a big woman, and in a world that favors a certain standard of beauty, that can be hard, so when Shane told me I was beautiful, it unlocked something in me; I began to appreciate every curve God gave me. Oh, I still had my ugly days like most women, but Shane was always there to put a crown on my head, no matter how unattractive I felt."
Sam was quiet for a long time and Mercedes worried that she revealed too much; or maybe she put a damper on his holiday cheer.
"Sam? You ok?"
"I'm just sitting here wondering how you could ever think you're unattractive."
Mercedes' eyes grew misty.
"Believe me I have. But you know when I really feel beautiful?"
"When?"
"When I'm standing in my purpose and truth. That's what fills me up the most because I don't falter. Only when I go against that, does the ugliness set in."
Sam stared at her with an expression that Mercedes could only describe as awe.
"You know yourself, don't you?" he said, reaching for her hand.
"Yes, but then I surprise myself too. I guess that's life's journey."
"I suppose it is. People used to tease me about my big mouth and thick lips. They called me Trouty Mouth. I was self-conscious about it for a long time and then Finn was like, dude, they're dicks, and besides no model scout is asking them to pose for Abercrombie and Fitch."
"You were a model?"
Sam shrugged.
"I was but I hated it. Too many fake people. I come from a great family. We were taught humility and kindness. Burt and Carol Hummel weren't raising a bunch of self-absorbed brats."
Mercedes let his fingers intertwine with hers and said:
"Tell me about your family."
"I come from a family of five. Finn is the oldest, then Kurt, then me, then Stevie and the youngest is our sister Stacey. We're close but don't see each other much cause we're all busy, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for any of them. We had a lot of fun growing up."
"Poor Stacey, the only girl."
"Poor Stacey nothing, she got along just fine with her brothers, trailing behind us everywhere we went. Could hunt and fish with the best of them and then be a ballerina too."
Mercedes smiled as Sam told her his memories.
"I wish I grew up with brothers and sisters. It got lonely as an only child."
"Well, I'm officially making you an honorary Hummel, if you accept."
"Thank you kindly, sir," Mercedes said in a fake southern accent, "I gladly accept."
Sam squeezed her hand.
"Spend Christmas with us."
"You mean with your family?"
"Yeah, Mom and Dad love having company. I hate to think of you two here all alone; we have more than enough room for you."
"I'm afraid of upsetting Abby. I don't know how she will react being around so many people."
"We're a friendly bunch. And besides it might be the best thing for her. I'll even drive, so you don't have to worry about using up your gas."
Mercedes was quite aware of the fact that they were now holding hands; and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
"Ok," she said.
Sam hugged her.
"You won't regret it. Hummel Christmases are always special."
"I'm sure I won't," she said, but a tiny part of her wondered if she made the right decision for Abby.
He broke the hug and said:
"I have something else to ask you."
"What's that?"
"Would you and Abby like to come to church with me for a special candlelight service? It's a nice church downtown, and I don't go as often as I should but, you know sometimes it makes me feel good just to have that fellowship."
"Church?"
Sam turned red.
"Sorry, if I'm overstepping my bounds, it's fine if – "
Mercedes shook her head and laughed.
"No, I was just a little surprised, but yes, we'll go to church with you."
Sam smiled and squeezed her shoulder.
"Ok, the service is tomorrow evening at 6:00."
"We'll be ready," Mercedes said.
HOPE BY CANDLELIGHT
Mercedes enjoyed the candlelight service at the First Community Church of Bethel Rock. The congregation was welcoming and she loved how the candlelight filled the entire church, reflecting off of the brilliant stained glass windows. Abby's eyes were wide as she watched the candle flames, flicker and sway, but what was most beautiful to Mercedes was the singing. They sang traditional Christmas carols and hymns, but the passion in the voices impressed her. Her starved spirit was nourished. Sam whispered a lot to Abby, explaining everything to her and pointing things out that she would find interesting, like the beautiful painting of Adam and Eve on the ceiling, the Christmas tree decorated with silver and gold ornaments, and the sweet incense burning near the pulpit. Abby smiled and took everything in, clutching her small candle in her hands. He admired Abby's blue velvet dress; and he told Mercedes that she looked like she stepped off the cover of Vogue as he stared at her in her red satin wrap-dress, pearls and high heels; her hair hung down her back in soft curls. His praise made her stomach flutter and she could barely say thank you.
The big surprise of the evening was Sam's solo. After the uplifting sermon, the young preacher, who looked about 30 years old, and had curly black hair and wide expressive brown eyes, said to the congregation:
"We have a special treat tonight. Brother Sam Hummel would like to sing a song for us. Sam, I'll let you take it from here."
Sam squeezed Mercedes' and Abby's hands, before getting up and walking to the front of the church. He stepped to the microphone and said:
"This was last minute and I'm glad y'all accommodated me. Anyhow, I'm going to sing this song for a friend of mine whose going through a tough time. She's a wonderful woman and I believe in her. This song is called Hold On, and no, it's not the Wilson Phillips song, this is something different it's by the band 33 Miles."
A few of the church members laughed at that, and Mercedes chuckled too. One of the choir members handed Sam a guitar and he began to sing.
I've been there a thousand times
Felt the rain like a thousand knives and it hurts
I know it hurts
I've been there like a fighter plane
Trying to fly my way through a hurricane and it's hard
I know it's hard
Don't be afraid
You'll make it through
Just call out to me
And I'll come running to you
And hold on, hold on
When the current pulls you under
And your heart beats like thunder
Just give me your hand
And hold on, hold on
Until the storm is over
And I'll be fighting for you
Just give me your hand
And hold on…
Sam's eyes found hers through the glowing candlelight; his voice was cracked and raspy and wonderful, and she cried as he sang, each word filled her with hope. She could keep going, just one day at time, and yes, she could hold on… Abby held her hand, gazing up at her, and Mercedes leaned down and kissed her daughter's forehead. When he was finished, the applause was deafening, and when he made his way back to their seat, she reached for him, holding him tight, tears spilling onto the black suit he wore.
"Thank you, Sam."
He hugged her back just as hard.
"I know you'll get through this."
A TEST IN VIRTUE
After the service, while they enjoyed hot chocolate and thick slices of a butter cream frosted, red and green Christmas cake in the Great Hall of the church, a blonde woman wearing a lacy pink dress with a full skirt and white gloves, and a less than sincere smile, walked over to them. She held the arm of a very disinterested older man in a black overcoat, with gelled back grayish brown hair and thin lips. He barely acknowledged them with the curt nod he gave. Sam frowned at the woman.
"Quinn, what are you doing here?"
Mercedes realized this was the same woman in the poster she saw in Sam's living room.
"I'm a member of this church, remember? Now introduce me to your friends."
Sam rolled his eyes.
"Mercedes, this is Quinn, my ex-wife and her husband, Will Schuester."
"And the little one?" Quinn asked, still sporting a fake smile.
"The little one is my daughter, Abby," Mercedes said, not sure if she liked this woman at all.
"Oh, how sweet you look in your little blue dress," Quinn said to Abby.
Abby looked up at Quinn then looked back at Mercedes, and stared at the ground.
Quinn raised her perfect eyebrows.
"Shy?"
"Yes," Mercedes said.
"Hopefully, she'll outgrow it, I remember when I was her age I –"
"Leave her alone," Sam said breaking into her trip down memory lane, "What do you want?"
"No need for rudeness. I only wanted to say Merry Christmas."
Sam's tone softened a bit.
"Merry Christmas, now we have to be going, it's getting late."
But Quinn wasn't letting him get away so easily.
"How long have you two been dating?"
"Quinn, babe, we need to leave," Will said, nudging her in the side, "I'm getting one of my headaches."
"You're always getting a headache," she said dismissing him with her white-gloved hand as if he were a gnat she wanted to swat; then she turned back to Sam:
"Well, how long?"
"We aren't dating," Sam hissed, "Now back off."
"What about that big to do during the service –"
Mercedes jumped in.
"It was nice meeting you," she said, not really looking Quinn in the eye; she was one of the most beautiful women Mercedes had ever seen in person and also one of the most bitchy, "Sam, we'll wait for you in the car."
Before he could respond, she was already walking away, feeling Quinn's eyes on her back. But a pain was in her heart, and it wasn't until she was tucked away in bed that night, snuggled beneath her down comforter that she realized what it was:
We aren't dating.
That's what Sam said.
And that's what hurt.
To be fair, it wasn't like they labeled it as anything. They never kissed. Their time together was very sweet and chaste; not a steamy romance. But she always thought of Sam as a "maybe" possibility; she couldn't deny her attraction to him and he had a lot of qualities that she admired. She shouldn't be hurt or angry, but the fact of the matter was, and as irrational as it was, she did feel hurt and angry for no good reason. Sure, Sam was a good man, but he wasn't her man… Did she want him to be? And what about Abby? Was it wise to let a man into her life while her baby was healing? Mercedes had no answers. She said a silent prayer for guidance and drifted back to sleep.
I DON'T PAY YOU 150.00 AN HOUR FOR NOTHING
Sam logged into Skype for his session with Artie.
"Hey, Artie," he said to the brown haired man on the screen, who was sitting near the beach. His skin was tan, and he held a big, red drink, garnished with an umbrella and pineapple slice.
"Sam, my man, mi amigo, how's it going?"
"Are you on vacation?
"No, I'm on the back deck of my beach house, sweet huh?"
"What are you drinking?"
"Don't worry, I'm not drunk. It's some smoothie thing that Brittany made for me. Supposed to keep up my strength. What's the weather like in Tennessee?"
"Cold and depressing."
"I feel you. Too bad you're not in California. Talk about a warm December. Went down to the mall the other day and Santa was wearing swimming trunks and he had washboard abs."
"I still like my Santa fat and jolly."
"Same here, dude, so how have you been?"
"I've been ok, well sort of, it's about Mercedes."
"What about her?" Artie asked, leaning back in his chair, the sunlight on his face, "You know, you never told me if she's hot or not."
"She's pretty."
"Send me a picture."
"Now?"
"Yes, now, and your session is only 50 minutes so get cracking."
Sam sighed and chose a picture on his phone of him, Mercedes and Abby the day they built the birdhouse and he sent it to Artie.
"I sent it," he said.
Artie nodded, and looked down at his phone:
"Very nice. A plus-size ebony queen. You hitting that?"
"Artie, please, it's not like that."
"Then explain it to me."
Sam told him everything about Mercedes and Abby and finished the story with the church service and Quinn's rudeness and his invitation to spend Christmas with his family.
"Now Mercedes is acting funny around me," he said, "I think it has to do with Quinn."
"You think?"
"Alright, tell me what I did wrong."
Artie took a sip of his drink.
"First, I'll tell you what you did right, since I'm feeling generous."
"Ok, shoot."
"Check one. You do all that chivalrous stuff that chicks love like cleaning off her car and cooking meals."
"Yeah."
"Check two. You offered to help with Abby, even though you don't know what the fuck you're getting into. Check three. You slow dance with her without bumping and grinding. Very classy."
"I like classy."
"So do quality women. Check four. You spend time with Abby."
"You make it sound like I'm playing a game and I'm not."
"Dude, I know you're not running a game, trust me, let me finish ok?"
Sam nodded.
"Go on."
"And check five, the grand puba of them all, you sing an inspirational song to her in church! Church! I mean, bro, I know you're just being you but damn… that was like epic. I bet she cried, right?"
"There were tears."
"Thought so."
"What did I do wrong?"
"Check one. You never asked her out on a real date or even let her know you're interested in anyway, aside from dancing to the Stylistics, you could just as well be her preacher or something. You kids nowadays have lost the art of courtship. Stupid hook-up culture."
"You're only a year older than me. Anyway, I certainly wasn't thinking pure thoughts when I was dancing with her that's for sure. And besides, I didn't want to push – "
Artie held up his hand.
"I've got the mike."
"Ok, I get it."
"Good, now where was I? Oh yes, I get that you don't want to push her, but you need to step up and let your intentions be known. Right now, you're a boy scout, doing good deeds, now you need to be a man and do the deed, you feel me?"
"I think it's too soon to sleep together."
"You're right it is, but all kidding aside, you have to let her know how you feel and where you hope to take this. Get out of the damned friend zone."
"Mercedes loves being a mother and she loves kids."
"Sam, like I've said a million times before, not every woman is going to bolt because of your condition. Why can't you see that?"
"I don't know."
"Let's just say you and Quinn stayed together. It never would've worked. You know that. She's too controlling and her idea of a good life was very different from yours."
"What else did I do wrong?"
"Check two. You told Quinn that you aren't dating Mercedes. In front of Mercedes. After you sang her that song in front of the entire church. Gee, what's wrong with that picture?"
"I made it seem like she wasn't even a possibility?"
"Bingo."
"I don't know, Artie. We never said we were dating. And I said what I said because I was trying to protect her and Abby."
"How?"
"Quinn can be a bit much sometimes and I know Mercedes can hold her own but lately she's been going through stuff and I didn't' want to add fuel to the fire. Quinn backs off if she doesn't think anything is going on."
"You give your ex-wife too much power. This is your life. Your choice. Man up and step up to the plate, no matter how hard she tries, Quinn can never ruin anything for you unless you allow it. Do you know how many of my clients have fucked up exes? I know what I'm talking about. And Mercedes is seriously digging you."
"She is?"
"Damn it, Sam, sometimes I wonder if you and my wife Brittany share the same brain, yes she likes you!"
Sam leaned back in his chair.
"How do you know?"
"A woman who isn't interested wouldn't let you in the way she did. People only allow themselves to be vulnerable to those they trust."
"I understand. Anything else I do wrong?"
"Not wrong, per se, but I do have something I want you to think about."
"Sure."
"Mercedes sounds like a great woman. But dude, she has A LOT of baggage, and her husband has only been dead for a year, and on top of that she has an emotionally disturbed daughter; that incident with the birdhouse won't be the only one. I know you like her and I support you, but remember what you're getting into. And yes, rejection is a part of this too, and she may decide not to pursue anything with you because of all that she's dealing with, especially when Abby is concerned. So yeah, tell her how you feel, but keep in mind, this ain't no Harlequin romance."
Sam sighed.
"Thanks, Artie."
"No problem. And Abby should be in therapy. Mercedes too, if I may be so blunt."
"Never stopped you before."
"You're right it hasn't."
"Do you know of any therapists near Bethel Rock? Skyping won't work for her."
"Well, there's this former classmate of mine, we went to Princeton together; she deals with children and trauma. Her name is Dr. Santana Lopez; she's rough around the edges but a real softy, I know she's in Tennessee somewhere. I'll email you her information.
"Thanks, man."
"See you, Sam, until next week."
"Until next week."
After Sam logged off, he looked out his window and stared at the birdhouse hanging from the oak tree. Despite the hardships they were going through; he knew in his heart that he wanted to try and see if a relationship with Mercedes was possible.
END NOTES: Thanks for reading!