Managed to sneak in some extra writing time and got this all polished (I hope) so thought I'd post it earlier than usual.
As always, many thanks to those who left reviews. You keep me chained to the keyboard. Happy reading.
Two days later, Foyle decided Sam was doing well enough that he could manage a few hours at work. He spent the entire time worrying about her, fighting the temptation to call his home to check on her. Upon his return to Steep Lane, he was relieved to find her reasonably cheery, even elated when he stepped through the door. Her smile when she saw him made his heart skip a beat and he had to remind himself once again not to put too much into it.
The following day, he risked longer hours at the station. Anticipation of the end of his police career was growing in Christopher and he found the day to be tedious. Or at least, that was the excuse he gave himself for his inability to concentrate. A few moments when allowed himself to be purely honest, he knew it had more to do with who was at home waiting for him than anything else. Those moments were followed by others where he chastised himself for allowing his thoughts in that direction.
After the pleasure of the previous day's greeting when he stepped through the door, Christopher braced himself, emotionally ready to defend the walls he'd so carefully placed between Sam and himself. But as he opened the front door he realized it was all for naught, as the house was quiet. Hanging his hat, he ventured into the front room thinking Sam might have fallen asleep on the divan. Further investigation led him to the kitchen where he struggled not to laugh.
Standing in the middle of the room was Sam, covered in flour. She was staring at the cupboard, her body tense with frustration. "Sam?" He spoke quietly but still it seemed to startle her and she jumped. And then she sighed a long mournful sigh. Tears followed.
"Wwhat happened?" he asked as he ventured further into the room.
"I thought I might try baking some bread. Thought I might get two or three loaves for the same amount of rationing coupons required for a loaf at the baker's. But..." she looked around, spreading her hands to indicate the floury mess that covered the kitchen.
Christopher let his eyes wander away from her to take it all in. A smile made a slow crawl across his face as he did and then it turned downward as his eyes settled once more on Sam. His eyes twinkled as he noticed the freckles that fought through the flour to show on her cheeks. And he thought that the flour in her hair might just give a hint to how she might appear in twenty years time when the grey began to show. "Errr... hadn't heard of any bombs going off today. 'ppears someone failed to report the one here," he quipped.
Sam looked at him through her teary eyes and allowed a grin to form at her mouth. "Didn't want to flour the whole house to get to the telephone."
Foyle surveyed the room again. "Wull um, do you think one loaf might be salvaged from this or do we just need to clean it all away?"
"Oh no, sir! You shouldn't have to help me clean it... not... well, your suit. And... well, I should be the one to clean it. And I did get one loaf in the oven already. Should be ready soon. Once I have this cleaned up, I'll put together a dinner?"
Grimacing as he contemplated what would be required for a clean-up, Foyle shook his head. "Nup, I'll help. Then we'll freshen up and go out."
"Ah, that would be marv..." she paused and sighed. "I don't think... my face, I mean... the bruises."
"Right, well... I'll fetch some fish and chips and we'll eat in. But first, we should take care of this," he said as he looked around the room again.
The two of them working together made quick progress and they finished just in time for Sam to pull the fresh loaf of bread from the oven. Seeing her breathe in the aroma and the look of delight that spread across her face made Christopher think he'd gladly give up all his rations to keep her in supply of bread making necessities. He had to admit that he found the smell quite pleasing as it filtered through the house as well.
Sam chattered through supper and as they cleared up afterwards, Foyle thought she seemed quite happy. It lifted his sprits to see her as herself. But as he listened to her chatter and watched her expressions, he found himself spellbound by her face and the rebellious freckles that dotted it. He didn't understand why, but he found her freckles endearing. It was those freckles that haunted his dreams that night, the freckles and her dark luminous eyes.
He awoke early in the morning with a very prominent awareness of what dreaming of Sam did to him. Lying in the bed trying to will the damned thing away, he heard her footsteps on the landing and then a moment later, a soft knock at his door. "Sir?" her whisper came through the door.
Not ready for her company, he replied through the closed door. "Yes, I'm awake.
"I was wondering... I mean, I thought perhaps... well, I had another nightmare and..." His ears picked up the sound of a stifled sob and his most immediate problem disappeared immediately. "I was wondering if I might... if..."
Shuffling to get out of bed, Christopher reached for his dressing gown at the foot of his bed. "Coming Sam."
Adjusting the robe, he opened the door to find her standing just outside, head down, her hands fidgeting. "Bad one, was it?" he asked quietly but even that seemed to startle her. And then perhaps surprising them both, she collapsed into him, his arms instinctively wrapping around her to steady them both. "Right... ridiculous question," he said softly, chastising himself internally.
Carefully he guided her downstairs, thinking that might be safer territory. He needed that, safer ground to ward off the angry and possessive instincts that were rising in him. Leading her into the front room, he felt her curl toward him even more, seeking shelter in his arms. Christopher closed his eyes against the warring emotions that created. Steady old man, she's depending on you... But Christ , it felt so good to have this warm young woman so close against him.
They sat on the divan and talked for a few minutes, Christopher trying to soothe her after her dream. "Dreamed of the attack, Sam?" he finally asked.
"No... no..." she replied, straightening up and wiping at her tears. "I... it was about me in the future. I was married; I don't know who he was but we... we were together, if you know what I mean... and" a painful grimace twisted on her face.
"And it was unpleasant?" he asked as mildly as he could manage.
Amidst sniffles she nodded, "Yes." She took a deep breath and swallowed. "I'm afraid that I'll never... well, what I mean to say is... well, ask really is... will it hurt? That night it really hurt and ... and I don't think I could... if that's what it is like. But I do want to be married, to have a family one day."
Foyle grimaced. Of all the topics of conversation he thought he might ever have with Sam, this wasn't one. But he knew she was looking to him for answers and as uncomfortable as it made him, he knew he couldn't ignore her question. "Wull Sam... bbest speak with the doctor about any remaining concerns about your injuries. But as for what I know of things in general, don't really think it would be like that night was. When people are together in the way they should be, when they care about one another, wull... most people find it pleasant."
She was looking at him now with an expression he couldn't quite decipher. She was contemplating... something. But where he usually had inkling of what she might be thinking, he was entirely without a clue. But the expression passed as he saw a question coming. He only hoped he could be ready for it, but of course he was not.
"Would you... would you show me?" she asked tentatively.
"Steady on..." he blurted in alarm.
"I don't mean everything. Just... something. I need to know and... and I trust you."
An earthquake shook just below him at her words. She trusted him... she wanted him to... .to... but she trusted him to know when to stop? Or how? What did she mean, she trusted him? Was it a good thing? Or was he so old she felt he was no threat? Or... or what exactly? "Sam?" he barely manage to say.
"I... well, I would want to see how it feels with someone I care for and... you're a gentleman and wouldn't..." she looked down to watch her fidgeting hands as she spoke. ..." hurt me like those men did... or even like it hurt in my dream." Her eyes came up as she addressed him next, her dark hues staring straight into his lighter ones. "I know you wouldn't."
His eyes were wide as he took it all in and the way his mouth was working, he knew he must look like a fish in a bowl. She was asking him to... to what exactly?" Feeling every bit as taken aback as he had the first day she had bounced into his office, he took a minute to gather in his emotions... and a few wild thoughts as well. "Wull... erm, what ddo you have in mind, exactly?" he asked rather pointedly.
She took his question as acceptance of the idea and charged forth with an explanation. "Well I thought, a few kisses perhaps and maybe some... cuddling?"
Christopher rubbed his finger over his eyebrow in thought... or really more to stall and give himself time to calm down. "Yyou want me to kkiss you? Aand hold you... and?"
"I'm not exactly sure. I've never... I mean, I know how it is to be kissed but nothing has ever... " she shrugged. "No one has ever tried to carry things farther. Well, until that night."
"Don't you think it might be bit soon for ... for that?"
"I'm not suggesting... well... everything."
"Ssam, don't you know how... attractive you are? I don't think it would be wise to... to begin something that... "
"Oh really sir, I don't believe that I'm so stunningly appealing that you couldn't control yourself. But it is very nice of you to suggest I might be." She was looking at him in nervous puzzlement now.
Every nerve in his body tingled and the rebellious little soldier who'd caused his grief earlier was beginning to misbehave again. "You shouldn't be quite so trusting, Sam."
"Oh, I'm not most of the time. But I trust you completely."
Christ, what now? "Ddon't think your suggestion is really a good one, Sam," he said diffidently, trying to mask his raging emotions.
She looked down again, dejectedly. "Right, I understand." Seeing the change that came over her, as if she was collapsing into herself, he closed his eyes in mental reckoning. And then in a rare fit of impulse, he did what he knew he shouldn't and leaned carefully to her, lifting her chin and capturing her lips with his. Her response was immediate... and electrifying. And exactly what he feared happened; he was lost to her, the sensation of her lips and the feel of her so close. God in heaven take me now because I don't think I can let her go...
But let her go, he did; after the third and rather randy kiss. He pulled himself away and stood, stepping to the mantel in an effort to cool his thoughts... and his body. "Sam, I... I apologize," he said rather meekly as he turned to look at her. But her expression stopped him. Dark eyes shimmering, she was looking at him in astonishment. "Oh, I say..." she breathed. "I never knew it could be... like that..."
"Whut?" he asked in confusion.
"So... so... exciting. I've never felt... always before it was just... tolerable because I thought well, it was what was expected, wasn't it? And I suppose the men got some pleasure from it. But that...oh, that was splendid." She was absolutely glowing.
He couldn't help the male pride that puffed his chest at her reaction. Nor could he help the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. But he knew he had to put a stop to it all and quickly. "Sam, we can't... I can't ttake advantage of you in that way."
"But I want you too," she blurted. And then pressing her lips together, a frown creased her forehead. "At least, a little." She looked up at him beseechingly. "I... feel so confused."
"Yes, right... which is why this can't happen again."
She nodded as she looked down forlornly, which only made him want to repeat the experience if only to put a smile back on her face. Christ, how am I to manage this?