CHAPTER 6

SUMMARY: Mercedes visits Dr. Santana Lopez, hoping to help Abby; Sam and Quinn have an argument about her brother; Mercedes and Sam grow closer

RATING: Teen

WARNING: Cursing, transphobic language

FINDING LOST VOICES

"She never speaks at all?" Dr. Lopez asked Mercedes. It was a cold, gray Saturday morning, and while Sam and Abby sat in the waiting room playing tic tac toe on Abby's notepad, Mercedes met with the therapist separately in her office. A sandalwood scented candle burned on the windowsill, and the aroma calmed Mercedes, she bit her bottom lip and looked into Dr. Lopez's dark eyes.

"Yes. Not at home or at school."

"Not even to you when you are alone?"

Mercedes shook her head, focusing on the large black and white poster that hung beside the window. It showed a group of Latino children playing in front of a fire hydrant that gushed streams of foamy water into the pot-hole filled street, the little girls wore white communion dresses and the boys wore dark suits, they all laughed and smiled as their clothes were soaked. It reminded her of Lima Heights, an area with a high Latino population, where she used to volunteer at the Youth Center on the weekends. She recalled how she, Shane and Abby spent many afternoons playing softball in the nearby park with the kids or going on field trips to local museums and libraries. Shane even tried to learn Spanish.

"Uno, dos, tres.." Shane said, while driving one sunny afternoon, with the windows rolled down, and the fresh summer air, filling the car, "What's next baby girl?"

"Cuatro," Abby said from the back seat, her neon pink sunglasses, were perched at the end of her button nose.

"Very good. See there, we're speaking Spanish," he said to Mercedes, who sat beside him, "I'm getting it."

"You're counting. You need to, you know, have conversations, too," she said, smiling at him, and squeezing his big, muscular arm. He wore a red wife beater and her name, along with Abby's were tattooed on his bicep in black cursive letters, and whenever he flexed his muscles, the letters would stretch like silly puddy. "You have a long way to go."

"One thing at a time, baby, one thing at a time."

Her fingers traced the tattoo, following the pattern of the letters.

"Cinco," she said.

Shane glanced over at her.

"Seis."

Suddenly, she felt somebody rubbing her arm, and shoving a box of tissue in her hands.

"Here."

Mercedes didn't realize she was crying. She wiped her tears and looked down at Dr. Lopez who knelt beside her chair.

"I remembered something."

"Does the poster upset you?"

"It made me remember stuff."

"So it was a trigger?"

"Yes."

Santana stood up and returned to her seat behind her black wooden desk.

"It's strange that Abby doesn't speak to you even when the two of you are alone. In the mutism cases that I've encountered, the child will at least speak in certain settings like at home or only with a few close relatives."

"I've heard that before. But Abby is different. Dr. Lopez, can you help us?" Mercedes said, not caring about her past patients but only her daughter, "I've been to so many therapists and none of them worked out. To be frank, Abby hated them."

"Call me Santana."

"Alright."

"And to answer your question, I'll do my best to help you. Why didn't she like the other therapists?"

Mercedes sighed, glancing down at her hands.

"I don't know. She was unresponsive. Wouldn't look them in the eye. They told me to wait it out."

Santana nodded and wrote a few notes on her yellow legal pad.

"Is Sam your boyfriend?"

"He's… well, we're seeing each other," Mercedes said

"You sound uncertain."

Mercedes wiped her eyes.

"I don't mean to be. It's still new. But we have deep feelings for each other and he cares for Abby and wants her to get well." It had been a month since she and Sam had started dating; and she didn't want to label it yet. Santana nodded and kept writing notes.

"I see. How does Abby feel about him?"

"Why the interest in Sam?"

Santana put down her pen and leaned back in her black leather chair.

"I want to get a sense of how this new relationship is working for you and Abby."

"Sam has been nothing but kind, loving, and supportive. Abby adores him."

"Ok, are you available for an appointment later this week?"

"Yes, I can bring Abby in at any time."

Santana shook her head, and flipped her long, black hair over her shoulder. She was a stunning woman with olive skin and ruby red lips; she wore a red blouse and a straight black skirt that complimented her lithe figure. With her height, features, and thin frame, she could've been a model.

"I want to see you first."

"But I need you to help Abby."

"You need therapy too."

"I know I've been sad at times but –"

"Sad? I'd say you had depression among other things. You and your daughter are feeding off each other's energy. It's like you when you get a cold but neither of you takes medicine so you keep giving each other the same cold. We'll make 2 appointments for Friday. I'm open late so, how about you come here at 5:00 for your session and then Abby's session can be at 6:00."

"Are you saying I'm making Abby sick?"

"Yes."

Mercedes got angry.

"I would never hurt Abby."

Santana remained calm as if she's been through this a thousand times before.

"It's not intentional. You focus so much on getting help for others that you fail to see you need help for yourself. You're a classic giver. You need to be selfish. Fill up your own tank of gas before offering rides."

Mercedes stood up, suddenly wanting to leave.

"Thank you for your time."

"Sit down."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Mercedes stood for a second longer and then sat down again. Santana closed her legal pad and recapped her pen. She stared at Mercedes and said:

"I know you love Abby. But neglecting your own emotional pain makes things worse. Children pick up on everything. And from what I've observed of her, she's a very sensitive little girl."

"I know she is."

"And so are you."

"Is there anything else?"

"I'm not out to get you, Mercedes. But you need to admit that you need help too. Your grief is overwhelming."

"I manage."

"How is that working for you?"

Mercedes was tired. Her shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes.

"I miss her voice."

"I'll do my best to get it back," Santana said, "Yours and hers."

THE WAY WE LOVE

As Sam drove them home, Mercedes was quiet. She stared out the window as the radio played Melvin and the Blue Notes. It began to rain. When they got home, he followed them upstairs and made tea while Abby went to her room for a nap. Mercedes changed into sweats and pulled back her hair. After Sam gave her the hot mug of lavender green tea, he went into the bedroom and changed into his plaid pajama bottoms and a faded blue Avatar t-shirt. He sat down beside Mercedes on the couch, picked up his mug of tea from the coffee table, and placed his arm around her. They sat in silence, sipping their hot drinks, and listening to the rainfall. When they were finished, he took the mugs into the kitchen, and came back to the living room, reaching out his hand, he helped her off the couch, and with their arms wrapped around each other; they went to her bedroom.

Sam picked up the two big white jar candles that sat on her dresser and placed them on the floor near the foot of her bed, then he got two bright red zabutons out of her closet and put them on the floor too. They each sat down on a zabuton, facing each other, legs crossed and knees touching. Sam lit the candles. They sat there staring into each other's eyes, not speaking, only gazing; though she was clothed, Mercedes felt bare and almost looked away, but Sam's gentle gaze anchored her and she loved how his green eyes glowed and she let herself get lost, allowing him to look inside her.

They continued sitting in silence, holding each other's gaze, until Sam leaned forward, touching his forehead against hers, and together they breathed in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, in synch with each other, and for several minutes, they breathed together, inhaling and exhaling, and Mercedes cried, her tears slipping down her cheeks, but the breathing continued, and it calmed her, how rooted they were in each other's space. They pulled away from each other, and Sam's eyes dropped to her belly, watching how she took in each breath and she did the same with him. After a few moments, they shifted their gazes from the other's belly to their eyes again. She imagined the stages of Sam's life, from a happy, chubby baby with floppy blonde hair, to a mischievous toddler, pulling on his mother's dress, to a curious boy climbing trees with his siblings, and then a sullen teenager trying to fit in with the status quo of a small town, and finally the images changed into the man that sat before her, breathing with her in that silent room, the candlelight shining in his eyes. She leaned over and placed her hand on his heart, feeling it beat beneath her palm. His heartbeat was strong and steady, and she imagined how hard it worked to keep Sam alive, because he gave himself fully to everything he did; he was so open and giving, and this amazed her; she smiled, feeling blessed that he was in her life. Sam placed his hand over hers, and smiled back. He put his other hand over her heart as well, pressing it against her chest. They felt the rhythm of each other's heartbeats, until Mercedes felt overwhelmed, and she gently broke away, needing to collect her emotions. While she regrouped, Sam blew out the candles and returned them to the dresser. He sat down on the zabuton again, waiting for her, not invading her space, but hovering close enough so that she could reach out to him if needed, Mercedes closed her eyes, feeling all the light and love they produced while delving into that non-physical space of connection. She took several deep breaths, her body processing all that she felt, and though Sam wasn't touching her, she felt him. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Sam stared at her, and she reached over and squeezed his hand. He helped her off the floor and pointed to the bed, and she nodded. He pulled back the heavy comforter, and she got in under the covers, and Sam got in as well, embracing her from behind, his body molding into hers. Their connection was so great that she wondered if they would share each other's dreams as they fell asleep to the sound of the rainfall pattering against the window.

ooo

Sam woke up first. He had to go to the bathroom, but hated to leave the warmth of the bed and the softness of his woman's body's filling his arms. His woman… that's how he saw Mercedes. He knew in actuality that as human beings, no one belonged to anybody, yet this belief was tossed aside every moment he spent with her. Acting on his possessiveness, he fell into caveman mode and she was his woman, and he liked to think that he was her man. Sam spent the night a few times a week, though they still hadn't slept together, he felt more intimate with her than any woman he had been with previously. Yes, he became aroused, what man wouldn't be aroused by her bountiful body and kind spirit, but he also knew how vulnerable she was, and he would never risk sleeping with her too soon and threaten the bond they shared. His shaving cream, deodorant, and toothpaste were in her bathroom cabinet and some of his flannel shirts hung in her closet. He sighed and pushed back the covers, kissed Mercedes' forehead, and left the bed. While he was in the bathroom, he thought about what they shared earlier that afternoon.

Since sex was off the table for now, they found other forms of intimacy. He researched non-sexual intimacy online and found different cuddle positions and other exercises that allowed them to express their feelings for one another. And there was nothing wrong with good old-fashioned kissing, which they enjoyed daily. Artie gave him lots of brownie points for this, but Sam wasn't looking for a pat on the head, he truly wanted to connect with Mercedes in a manner that was comfortable for her. Whenever they went out, Sam made it a point to hold her hand, letting the world know that they were indeed together; killing any doubts that some people, especially women, may have about their relationship. Sam was used to women flirting with him, because as Finn put it, he had that all-American, muscular, good ol' boy look. He could admit that he used it to his advantage when he wanted something, but now that he had Mercedes he kept the female admirers at bay.

After he was finished in the bathroom, he went to check on Abby, and found her in the living room, putting together the dollhouse that Mercedes bought her for Christmas. It was a kit that was meant for a much older child or even an adult, but Abby's natural mechanical abilities, allowed her to put it together with ease; it was a rather large house, and everyday, she worked on it. Right now she was screwing on one of the bright green window shutters. She looked up and saw Sam and smiled. Sam smiled back and leaned down, giving her a brief hug. He glanced out the window and saw the rain had finally stopped; it was getting dark and the sky was fading into smoky blue twilight. Sam went into the kitchen to make dinner. As he took the left over roast chicken out of the fridge to make chicken soup, the main front door buzzed. He went downstairs to see who it was, and when he looked through the peephole, he was surprised to see Ryder Fabray standing on his doorstep. He opened the door, smiling at his friend.

"Ryder, good to see you!"

"I'm sorry to come by without calling."

Sam looked at him like he had lost his mind.

"You're family."

Ryder raised his eyebrows.

"I am?"

"You know what I mean," Sam said, pulling him inside. He and Ryder became friends while he was dating Quinn. It was so odd how different she was to her younger brother, who was more down to earth and caring. Sometimes Sam secretly wondered if Ryder was adopted because he looked nothing like the blonde and blue Fabray clan, with his dark hair and eyes. Sam hadn't seen Ryder since he moved to New York a year ago with his current girlfriend, a transgendered female singer named Unique, and whom his family had difficulty accepting, causing a rift in his relationship with them. Even though, he and Quinn were divorced, Sam still regarded Ryder as a brother, he missed him when he moved away, but understood that New York was where he and Unique needed to be. Closing the door, Sam said:

"So you're in town visiting?"

"I guess you could call it that."

"Mending fences?"

Ryder nodded.

"Trying too. Unique couldn't come. So I faced them alone."

"Sounds fun."

"Brutal is more like it."

"Come on upstairs, I'm making dinner, you're more than welcome to join us."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can wait down here in your apartment until you're done. I feel funny barging in on your time with your girlfriend. Besides, I want to talk to you alone, anyway."

At first Sam was going to protest, but then he thought about Abby and her sensitivity to strangers; though she instantly warmed up to his family, she still had reservations about meeting new people. He was sure Mercedes wouldn't mind, but after today's intense intimacy, she may want to cuddle with him for a while and those were very private moments.

"You have a point. I'll let you inside my apartment. Help yourself to whatever is in the fridge. George and Gracie will like the company. I'll be down in a few hours."

"Take your time. I had to get away from my family. It'll do me some good to unwind by myself."

Sam unlocked the door and waved Ryder inside.

"I'll see you in a bit."

ooo

Mercedes loved the chicken soup that Sam made for dinner. He used all of the leftover chicken and vegetables from the previous night's meal. The rich, yellow broth was flavored with fresh rosemary, thyme and sage. The diced red bliss potatoes also added to the robust flavor.

"Only you can make leftovers taste this good," she said, helping herself to another bowl of soup.

Abby nodded in agreement as she ate the hot soup. The oven chimed and Sam got up from the table and took out a cookie sheet filled with golden brown buttermilk biscuits.

"I'll let these cool down and then I'll put them on the table," he said.

Mercedes watched him move about the kitchen. She was glad when he told her that when his friend Ryder dropped by that he decided to chill in Sam's apartment rather than coming upstairs; Mercedes needed to be with Sam and Abby alone that evening; though she couldn't explain why. She also wasn't eager to meet a sibling of Quinn's; despite what Sam said about him being different from his ex-wife. When he sat down again, she squeezed his hand.

"Thank you so much for making dinner."

"You've had a lot on your plate lately, it's the least I could do."

"That I have," she said thinking of the upcoming therapy sessions. As if reading her mind, Sam said:

"I think you're on the right track with Santana."

"You do?"

"Yes, and I'll help anyway I can."

Mercedes leaned over and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you."

After they ate the rich soup and flaky, buttered biscuits, they had warm homemade apple crisp with plump golden raisins and Vietnamese cinnamon topped with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream for dessert. When dinner was over, Abby went to take her bath and brush her teeth, while Mercedes and Sam cleaned up the kitchen. Once the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Sam hugged Merecedes, and kissed her, his hands roaming up and down her back, gently squeezing the cheeks of her gorgeous posterior. Mercedes moaned when he fastened his plump lips to her neck, sucking and nibbling on her soft flesh, he then ran his big hands through her hair, tugging at her long locks.

"Don't ever cut your hair," he murmured, slowly pulling away from her and kissing every inch of her round, flushed, face.

Mercedes tightened her hold around his waist, looking up at him.

"If it means that much to you, I won't."

They hugged each other tight and went to the living room. Sam sat down on the couch, and Mercedes lied down, placing her head in his lap, and as he stroked her hair, his fingertips massaging her scalp, they watched the evening news. Every so often, Sam lifted her hand and kissed it. When the news was over, he caressed her cheek and said:

"What is it?"

"Santana said I had to admit that I needed help."

"I never thought I needed therapy either."

"Really?"

"It wasn't until Finn pointed out to me that showering wasn't optional."

Mercedes laughed.

"Huh?"

"I wasn't showering or taking care of myself, but I felt like it was normal, you know? I rarely left the house. I stopped answering the phone. All I did was listen to records. That felt normal to me. But it wasn't."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I was in bad shape. But I didn't know how bad it was because I was in it."

Mercedes nodded.

"I think I understand," she said as she sat up and kissed his full lips, "You better go downstairs. I'm sure Ryder is anxious to visit with you."

"Are you sure? I can stay longer if you like."

"I'm fine. I'm going to sit here and read Jane Eyre."

Sam hugged her.

"I'll come back, ok?"

"Ok."

Mercedes liked it when he spent the night, she loved snuggling up to him, and Sam told her that holding her while he slept calmed him in ways that medication never could. They kissed once more and he went downstairs to his apartment.

ooo

Sam found Ryder in his living room drinking a beer and watching an old zombie flick on the classic movie channel. Ryder looked up from the couch and smiled.

"Hey man, how was dinner?"

"Awesome."

"I want to meet this woman that has you all turned inside out."

"You will."

"Mercedes, right?"

"Yeah, that's her name."

"Our Lady of Mercy. Is she Catholic?"

Sam sat down beside Ryder on the couch.

"No, she's named after Mercedes Ruehl."

"Cool."

Sam picked up the remote off of the floor and turned down the volume.

"So, how's life in New York?"

Ryder shrugged and took a drink of beer.

"It's hard. With all those people you can still feel alone. We gets homesick sometimes."

"Any chance of you moving back here?"

"No, I can't be that close to my family. Especially with how they treat Unique."

Sam couldn't imagine his parents ever being disrespectful of anyone he chose to love, unless that person did something inexcusable, they accepted his choices. The Fabrays were more controlling.

"I wish I could help."

"Thanks, man. Anyway, I'll figure it out. But I have good news."

"What is it?"

Ryder slapped Sam's shoulder.

"We're getting married."

"That's great, when?"

"This summer. The wedding will be in Vermont. We're keeping it small, and I would love for you to be my best man. So will you do it?"

"Of course, I will," Sam said, giving Ryder a hug, "This is awesome news."

"You accepted Unique and I'll always be grateful for that."

Suddenly the door buzzed. Sam left the apartment to answer it. He looked through the peephole and saw Quinn standing on his doorstep in a pastel pink coat, her arms folded and her long blonde hair was windblown. Sam opened the door.

"Hi Quinn."

"I want to speak with my brother," she said, pushing past Sam, "I know he's here because his car is parked out front."

"I'm fine, thank you and how are you?"

Quinn side-eyed him.

"Just get Ryder."

"No."

"I take it you heard his so-called good news?"

"Yes."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Move."

"He doesn't want to talk to you."

"But Mom and Dad are upset after his little bombshell tonight. I have to fix this."

"You can fix it by leaving."

"No, I can fix it by talking to him."

Quinn attempted to push him aside, but Sam blocked her path to his door.

"It's his choice."

"I don't want him throwing away everything for some gender confused hussy, who's only after his money."

"They love each other."

"You're so naieve."

"How?"

"You think everyone is good."

"I never thought you were," Sam said, knowing full well he was lying, but wanted to insult her out of spite.

"But you married me anyway!"

His apartment door opened and Ryder walked out into the hallway.

"Quinn, please leave. I don't have anything to say to you."

"How could you even think that marrying Unique is a good idea?"

"Because I love her."

"Why?"

"She's special."

"Yeah, like reality show special."

"All you do is insult her. Have you even had a conversation with her?"

Quinn looked down at the floor for a moment then gazed up at Ryder.

"I'm only looking out for you."

"You're looking out for my inheritance."

Quinn grabbed his hand.

"You're making a mistake."

"I'm marrying Unique."

She turned to Sam.

"You did this. You always encourage him," she said and mimicked Sam's voice, "Ryder drop out of MIT, and go live in a commune in California."

"I never said that," Sam said, glaring at her, "You always twist shit to suit you."

"I'm not twisting anything! He listens to every stupid thing you say!"

"Because I listen to him!"

"Thank God we never had kids, you would've been stuck on stupid, letting them run amok."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam said.

"You influence him. I thought that would change after the divorce, but you still have this hold over him."

"He doesn't influence me. I have my own mind," Ryder said, "I know you have good intentions buried somewhere, but you have no right to tell me whom I should marry. Now go. I cant' talk to you when you're acting like this."

"You're marrying a chick with a dick. How am I supposed to act?"

Ryder grabbed Quinn by the shoulders, shaking her a little. Sam never thought that he would hurt his sister, but he worried about her unborn child. He rubbed Ryder's back.

"Dude, come on, calm down, please. I agree she's wrong but –"

Ryder ignored him and said to Quinn:

"I never want to see you again."

"Misha, don't, I'm sorry I didn't mean –"

Sam knew Quinn was scared because she called Ryder by his nickname.

"Don't start with that Misha stuff," Ryder said, removing his hands from her shoulders, and backing away from her. "It won't work."

Quinn touched his cheek.

"I love you."

"Go," he said and went inside the apartment.

Quinn hung her head as Sam guided her down the hall to the front door. When they got to the door, she looked up at him:

"This is your fault."

"Quinn – "

"He'll regret it."

"Why don't you live your own life instead of controlling everyone else's?"

"I've always protected him."

"Maybe it's time you stopped."

Quinn put her hand on her belly, rubbing it a little. Sam averted his eyes.

"It's late," he said, reaching for the doorknob.

"But I don't want to be alone right now."

"What about Will?"

"He's in London."

"I can't help you."

"Is this your revenge?"

"Good night, Quinn"

"Go for a drive with me."

"No."

She placed her hand firmly on his chest, pressing her palm against his heart, as if she were trying to reach inside him, and he smelled her lilac perfume, "We can go to Smiley's," she said, "Get root beer floats like we used to."

Sam removed her hand, backing away from her.

"Please leave."

"I'm sorry for what I said about having kids with you. I was angry. I didn't mean it."

"Apology accepted."

Quinn moved closer to him.

"I need someone to talk to."

Sam shook his head, opening the front door, and the cold winter air blew into the foyer.

"I'm not that someone."

"You used to be."

"Goodnight, Quinn."

"But I don't know what to do about Ryder."

"Yes you do."

She reached for his hand, but he pulled away, and Sam saw the desperation in her crystal blue eyes.

"He's all I have. If you could convince him - "

"I'm not convincing him of anything."

The wind blew Quinn's hair, fluttering it about like a curtain. She tightened the belt on her coat, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I heard Lucky on the radio the other day."

"So?" Sam said, leaning against the door.

A few tears fell onto her reddened cheeks.

"Did you erase everything? That was our song."

Sam felt a measure of pity for her, but not enough to console her. No amount of tears or walks down memory lane could diminish the pain they caused each other. The wounds were still fresh, and when he grew stronger, he may change his mind but now, he was a work in progress, and he hadn't reached that level of forgiveness.

"I can't do this," he said.

"But I still –" she began to say and stopped in mid-sentence, staring at him.

Sam stared back at her.

"No, Quinn."

She walked out the door, slamming it behind her. Then Sam heard Mercedes' voice:

"Sam?"

He turned around and saw her standing at the top of the stairs, her hair was wrapped up in a purple scarf and she wore a white bathrobe.

"I heard yelling."

Sam walked up the stairs and pulled her in a hug.

"I'm sorry."

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah."

Mercedes held his hand.

"What happened?"

"They don't approve of Ryder's fiancé."

"Oh," Mercedes said.

"I'm going to tell Ryder he can spend the night in my apartment. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"Alright," she said, kissing his cheek.

THE HEART IS SACRED

After Sam told Ryder he could stay at his place that night and showed him the guest bedroom, he returned to Mercedes' apartment and curled up with her in bed under the covers. Her orange flower nightlight glowed in the corner, reminding him of a tropical sunset.

"Why did you marry her?" Mercedes asked him, as he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Huh?"

"You asked me about Shane."

Sam stroked her cheek.

"I know but…she wasn't always like that."

"What was she like?"

"Baby, please…"

"Really I want to know."

"Why?"

"Why did she ask you to go for a drive?"

Sam sat up.

"What? That's not - "

"I see how she looks at you."

"Cedes – "

"You can't see it. But I do."

"I don't love her any more."

Mercedes coaxed him onto his back and laid her head on his chest.

"Let's get some sleep."

"Tell me what's wrong."

"She still loves you. And can you honestly say that you haven't fantasized about getting back with her?"

"I did in the beginning. But I don't anymore."

Mercedes hid her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"You're the woman I want."

She nodded, remaining silent. He touched the side of her face.

"Cedes, look at me."

She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and his heart broke.

"I've shared more with you than I have with any other woman. I love you. I love you so much it kills me inside. Do you understand? So whatever you're seeing is complete bullshit."

Sam surprised himself when he told her that he loved her. He hadn't planned on doing that for a while, but the words tumbled out, and he was relieved to lay all his cards on the table. Mercedes sat up and kissed him, her tears spilling onto his shoulder. Sam hugged her tight.

"What have I done to deserve you?" he whispered.

Mercedes stared at him, the orange glow of the nightlight shined in her eyes.

"I love you," she said.

Sam quietly rejoiced at her admission. They kissed until she pulled way, breathing hard, searching his eyes.

"When she touched your chest, that's what got me."

"I don't understand."

Mercedes sighed, glancing down at her hands.

"When we're together…" she stopped speaking, faltering with her words, "I feel you there."

Sam thought for a moment. Then he understood. That's where his heart was.

"It meant nothing."

"I know, but that's our way of connecting."

"Baby, I understand. It won't happen again."

Sam felt foolish for not realizing how that may have looked to Mercedes. For her it was the equivalent of watching them kiss or have sex. When they engaged in non-sexual intimacy, the touching of the heart was sacred, at least for them. Mercedes stroked his cheek.

"I'm not angry. It just caught me off guard."

"Did it make you doubt me?"

"No. You had nothing to do with her actions. But I'm curious about what your marriage was like."

Sam sighed thinking back on his years as Quinn Fabray's husband.

"My marriage had a lot of shouting and tears, with some sweet, tender moments mixed in. And since you wanted to know what she was like before, she was a lot softer, still bold but soft, and though she always had a mouth on her, and that never changed, the way she used it did. But I'm not looking back. I'm moving forward with you."

Mercedes leaned down and kissed his heart and then kissed his lips. Sam reveled in the kiss, slipping his tongue through her luscious lips and into her sweet mouth, he knew when to stop, just short of his losing control. Mercedes had to be ready to go further and he sensed the time would come soon. When he felt his member growing harder, he gently broke the kiss, and pressed his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes, waiting as his breathing returned to normal. Once their hearts stopped racing, they snuggled together under the covers, and he held her in a protective embrace.

"Thank you, Lord for this woman," he whispered before falling asleep.

END NOTES: Thanks for reading and reviewing!