A "guest" left a review asking if I'd ever talked with anyone who had been raped and suggested that it isn't a subject for entertainment. I wish "Guest" had reviewed under a username so I could have responded by PM. But since they didn't, I'll reply here. First, yes I am all too familiar with the consequences of rape. I'm not going to explain further in this venue, but yes I am familiar with the territory. And secondly, I'm hoping to show some of the difficulty for the people who care about the victim. And third, if we don't talk about it how can we deal with it? For instance, in Foyle's time there wasn't much awareness about the real motivations behind rape, most prople thinking the girl did something to cause it. We now know that in a case like Sam's it has little to do with sex but more to do with power and rage. In her time, she would have faced public humiliation with many pointing the finger at her for sexual promiscuity and the notion she invited the violent act. Sadly, that still happens today, but because we do discuss it more openly more and more people are realizing that the crime has little to do with the victim's actions, other than they are unlucky enough to come across the radar of a criminal. I'm giving Foyle credit for being a bit more "modern" in his thinking and understanding that it was not Sam's fault. Still, other than trying to be there when she needs him, he's at a loss as to how to help her. And in the process, his own feelings for her are coming into clearer focus, at of course the wrong time. I'm confused about why the guest reviewer didn't speak up until chapter 6, and I am continuing the story. If that offends, I'm sorry.

By the following afternoon it was clear Sam would have to leave the deteriorating safety of his house and return to her life at the guest house. He was far too tempted to repeat his actions and she seemed far too willing to let him, even seeming to try to instigate a response from him by touching him or giving him looks that set fire to his insides. He knew it was absolutely the worst time for a display of his own ragged emotions and she would heal better without his confusion weighing on her. It created an uneasy feeling in Christopher Foyle as he contemplated her departure. He knew Sam was struggling too. But she was recovering from her trauma, not so shattered, and she needed to return to her life. It would be dangerous and inconsiderate of him to ask her to stay longer; yet, he couldn't seem to quell the rolling emotions in his chest as they spoke of it.

"I... I don't know what I shall say to Adam exactly," Sam confessed.

"Say whatever you wish. But it would be unfair to lie to him, don't you think? Mmight not tell him everything, just that you were attacked?" Foyle was trying to give Adam the benefit of the doubt, to credit the young man with the good sense to support Sam as she continued her recovery. And he'd had a reminder just that morning of how grossly inappropriate it was for her to remain with him, without a chaperon. The biddies across the road had made no secret of the fact they were watching him, the gaps in their drapes at the windows barely concealing the attentive eyes behind them. The war had changed many things, but not the small mindedness of the biddies. Foyle sighed heavily. Nor could he deny that the way his emotions were unraveling, Samantha was in need of a chaperon with him. Perhaps the small mindedness of the biddies wasn't unjustified.

"I... I wish... what I mean is... I feel safe here," Sam said disconsolately.

Her demeanor tugged at his gut even as her words made his heart stand up and take notice. Then again, he wasn't so old that he wouldn't like to feel just a little dangerous to a beautiful young woman. But this was Sam and she had been hurt, deeply hurt, and it gave him pleasure to know that he had brought some feeling of security back to her; he certainly didn't want to ruin her progress with his own unstable emotions. "I am happy to hear that," he said as brightly as he could. "But as much as I've enjoyed your company, it would be best if you are able to regain your life, don't you think?"

She was looking down, her fingers fidgeting with one another as she tried to gather her thoughts and her courage. "I... I rather like my life when I'm..."

He waited for her to finish and when nothing more came, he prodded gently. "Wwhen you're... what?"

Ever observant, especially with Sam these past few days, Christopher saw the sudden rise in her chest as she took in a great amount of air in preparation for the words that were about to fall out of her mouth. "When I'm with you. It's almost always so exciting but even when it isn't it is interesting and I feel ever so comfortable with your teasing and the way you explain things to me and... then there's the quiet times like at the river when nothing is happening really and still it feels so warm and wonderful and ... and... I've missed that since... well, since I haven't been your driver. When we went up to London and I helped you it was like old times only it felt even better, maybe because I had missed you so much but then we were almost shot and Adam was and the case ended and you were mostly gone again and ..." she paused with a frown on her forehead. "Do you know what scared me the most in that shelter when that man was coming to shoot us? I was afraid you would get killed and then what would my life be... without you. I know we'd seen some danger before but that was the closest I think I ever came to losing you and it frightened me and... well, I just don't think I could bear it, especially after the way you kissed me."

Foyle knew his eyes were wide with surprise and he suspected his mouth hung open. Without expressing it in words, Sam had just revealed that she had feelings for him far beyond those of an employee and perhaps even friend. Suddenly his world was out of kilter and with her hidden confession he realized that he could no longer deceive himself with the notion that he was more of another uncle or perhaps trusted friend. No, suddenly he found himself confronted with the sure knowledge that not only was he was in love with the young woman who sat across from him but perhaps she might feel the same about him. But acknowledging all of that to himself and letting her know his feelings were two entirely different things. She could not know or she might be dissuaded from pursuing a man much more suited, just as he knew that if allowed his own feelings full bloom he would do everything possible to do the dissuading.

He had to do two things, he thought. First he had to get his own emotions under control and immediately. And then he needed to get Sam out of his house and away from temptation. And in that moment he was disinclined to do either.

But even before that, he needed to respond to her barrage of words. "Wull, glad to know I'd be missed," he said as mildly as he could. "Planning to be around awhile longer though, Sam."

Her gaze settled on his eyes just then and she became very still, unsettling him even more as she did. "I... I've realized something," she whispered. Now her eyes were wide and he saw it all coming together in her mind. "I... you... you're more than my employer..."

Allowing a tug of a smile at the corner of his mouth but feeling as if needles were pricking him everywhere, Christopher nodded. "Rather hoped we were friends, Sam."

She opened her mouth to answer but closed it and then looked away briefly before locking onto his face again. "Rather more, I think."

Christopher sat frozen in his chair, afraid to say anything. But in his chest his heart beat rapidly as hope filled him. although it was against his better judgment. And his mind... his mind was running off into places it hadn't been in some years.

When he didn't reply, she took charge. "I... I've known that I've had feelings for you since... well, almost the start. At first I thought it was a crush of some kind; you know, young student and wise professor sort of thing. Every man I went out with was compared to you and came up wanting. It... it's because... I love you... am in love with you" She blurted the last as if she feared she wouldn't get it out.

How can one experience absolute joy and complete desolation at the same time, he wondered. For a man who believed he would never find love again the notion that this bright, beautiful blast of fresh air and sunshine could love him was beyond amazing. But it was forbidden fruit in his mind... simply could not come to be more. So with his insides churning and his heart breaking he opened his mouth to speak. "Sam, I..."

"Oh I know you don't love me; you're still in love with your wife and you're not the sort of man who would love two women at the same time. And I must seem awfully naive and even irritating at times and not nearly smart enough to keep up with you. But... it is the way I feel about you. And now I've said it."

His eyebrows rose once again as he digested what she said and he glanced away, his mouth twisting as he fought what he truly wanted to say. Not at all, Sam. Naive perhaps but not so irritating and you are every bit smart enough and the way I feel about you... A man my age... it's obscene really... "Wwell... I'm fflattered of course. But you must realize Sam that the differences in our ages... wouldn't be a good match."

"I know there are people who would think that but I don't care about that," she said frankly. "In fact, I think that's part of what makes you so attractive to me." Her bright eyes and assured smile almost had him begging himself for a chance to find out. But instead he gnawed at his inner cheek a little before responding, "mmight matter in another few years; mmight'n be so attractive by then." He fixed a steady gaze on her, trying his best to look blithe while he felt his insides were ready to explode. "Or might be because I'm... safe."

But she knew him too well. Her eyes undid him as they travelled around his face, taking in every feature, line, and crease. And when her eyes settled back on his, she smiled. "Oh, you're no Clark Gable, sir. Never have been. But he's really only that attractive on film, isn't he? But you... you're real. From your thinning but wonderfully curly hair to your eyes and all the way to your toes, you're real and very attractive in my mind. But it isn't because you are handsome, although I think you are, but it is because of you, your character, the man you are. That won't change in the next few years, will it? You'll still be Christopher Foyle then, won't you?" She smiled at him and then added, "and after yesterday morning, I know that you are not safe, not entirely anyway."

Her look of happy expectation unnerved him and turned every bone in his body to jelly. How was he to counter that? Looking at her with wide eyes, afraid to believe anything she was saying, and wishing to heaven it could be true, he couldn't respond. He didn't dare for fear he'd open his mouth and his feelings would spill out. Consequently, he glanced away, his tongue dipping into his cheek as he worked it furiously before finally chewing on the inside of it in thoughtful despair. He swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat constricting painfully as he pushed back the emotions that welled up within.

He watched as her face fell into its own melancholy and she sighed. "Well, I've done it now. You'll pack me off the Adam's and I'll never see you again, will I? But I just had to tell you; couldn't keep it in any longer," she half whispered.

"Sam," he whispered softly, his anguish evident in his voice.

Tears began to stream down her cheeks. "I knew it. No man will want me now, not even you, the most understanding, considerate man I've ever known. I... I'm damaged goods now, aren't I?"

Horror that she would feel that way rippled through him, rising in his chest and bringing bile into his throat. "Sam, that's not true. I am flattered that you could... have such feelings for me. And... what happened the other night has nothing to do with... well, what I am feeling. Certainly n..not damaged goods."

"But you don't want me, don't care for me. Not like I..." she began to sob.

Closing his eyes against his own incompetency, he knew he had to say something. He couldn't see her hurt, be the cause of it really. But what to say? How could he possibly..."Ssam, I ..." He stopped, closing his eyes once again, chastising himself for being so inept. He had to tell her... something. "Truth is I... I care for you much more than I should. Aand it is equally true that I am too old for you. You should have a man more your age, one more capable of keeping up with you, someone with whom you will grow old. You are just beginning your life really and I... wull, I have fewer years ahead than behind."

Taking in what he'd said, Sam's sobs subsided and her expression turned thoughtful again. Then looking straight at him, tears still pooling in her eyes, she asked, "did you marry Andrew's mother believing the two of you would grow old together?"

Her blunt question and frankness with it shocked him. A frown furrowed on his forehead as his chest tightened. It hurt, her question; there was no denying. Thoughts of Rosalind were always a mixture of hurt and comfort, love and loss... and grief. For that reason, he rarely spoke of her to anyone. And now here was Sam trying to use her against him. Among all the other diverse emotions swirling inside him just now, anger rose to the surface. "Sam," he said sharply to stop her.

And stop her it did. "Oh I am sorry, so very sorry; I should have never... I mean, I didn't know you then, didn't... it's just that... I think all couples start out expecting to have so many years together but if there's one thing the war should have taught us, it is that nothing is certain. Why, I could be gone tomorrow. Don't you remember when I had Anthrax... or... or all those times I was blown up? I could have died any of those times but I didn't. And both of us might have been killed in London and... and neither would have known how the other felt, not really. And when I was attacked... I might have died then without telling you, without understanding it all myself. And that just seems wrong to me."

In his mind, Christopher Foyle conceded her point. Outwardly, his face remained impassive and perhaps somewhat painfully contemplative. Closing his eyes to the renewed onslaught of conflicting emotions, he grasped at a tendril of an idea. "I... I plan to go to America soon. My replacement is scheduled to arrive and then I'll be free to... well, clear up some unfinished business. Don't know how long I'll be away but I will return," he said quietly. "If you feel the same then..." He shook his head in disbelief. What the devil was he doing? But looking at her hopeful face, he knew he'd committed. In for a penny, in for a pound... "You'll have time to get over what's happened, Sam; and to think. Give Adam a chance? And we'll speak of this again then? When I'm back? If you still care to, that is. Can't promise I'll see things differently then but... it will give us both time to think."

She looked at him warily. "You are just saying this to put me off, aren't you? And unfinished business in America? What could you possibly have to finish there?"

Foyle cleared his throat. "Erm... rather not speak of it but has to do with overdue justice."

Her eyebrow twitched slightly and she stared at him intensely until he saw the flicker of recognition. "That... that man, the American... the one who killed the inventor. He was friends with your friend the barrister." He could see her mind searching for a name. And then, "Paige... that was his name. You're going after him after all this time?" She sounded incredulous.

"I am," he said simply.

"Oh take me with you. Please take me with you... "

"Sam, I couldn't even if I wanted to. It's likely to be fraught with difficulty. I'm not even certain how I will get there. And he's a Senator; it'll be a bit like an American detective coming here to chase down an MP. Not likely to be met happily."

"So I'm right, you are trying to put me off?"

"Nnup... not t'all. Just giving you... giving us both time to think. Ccan't really see why you'd have any interest in me, Sam. You're just beginning your life and I'm... well, I'm looking forward to retirement. Not the same places, are we?"

"But that's just it; I can't see my life without you in it," she exclaimed. "And you've said before you couldn't go anywhere without me."

His eyes crinkled at the corners as a small smile worked its way south. "Tthank you for that, Sam; for making this old chap feel ... wull, not so old. But the truth of the matter can't be ignored."

"So you've no intention of using the time to think? You're just hoping I'll move on to someone else and you won't have to be bothered," she cried in earnest now. "I... I won't bother you any longer then. I'll go back to the guest house and... and I'll marry Adam if he asks me and ... and ..." She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and without thinking, Christopher reached in his pocket, producing a handkerchief.

Wull you've botched that ... "Sam... please don't... "

"Don't? Don't what? Don't cry, don't marry Adam, don't make you feel bad?" She looked at him with such anguish that it tore a new hole in his heart and he felt tears in his own eyes. And then the air seemed to go out of her. Her eyes closed in capitulation and she let out a soft groan. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't... it was wrong of me to... I wasn't being fair to you. After all, I've just sort of sprung it all on you when... well, obviously you don't think of me in that way. I'm sorry. I'll leave and won't bother you again."

An anvil landed in his chest as he watched and listened. Don't think of her in that way... Christ, it's obscene the way I've thought of her, dreamt of her at times... And now I've broken her. You're a fool, Christopher Foyle; a damned old fool. But you can't... she's far too young to be tied to a tedious old man. Still, you've made a hash of this, haven't you. He chewed on his inner cheek furiously as he tried to think of a way to fix this. "Sam... nnot a bother, never that," he said remorsefully. "If I were younger, even by ten years, I wouldn't let you near another man... keep you all to myself. But I'm not and I can't change that." He looked at her beseechingly. "I do care for you, so very much. And because I do, I want to see you happy and I can't see how that could be with me. "

He watched as acceptance settled in her expression. She sighed deeply and pressed her lips together as if fighting more tears. "I... think I understand. And I want to be happy. Trouble is, I can't see how that could be without you." She glanced around nervously and fidgeted with his handkerchief, her eyes finally landing on a spot on the floor in front of her. "It's alright. I... I'll go back to Adam's for now. I'll need to find something else soon though because I know... well, I think he's going to ask and I just can't... it wouldn't be fair to him for me to accept."

Foyle sighed heavily. It wasn't quite the end of the conversation that he'd hoped for but at least she was letting go the notion of him. And she wouldn't marry Adam unless she loved him. He couldn't let himself wonder at the relief that created in him.

Sam returned to her job at the guest house that night. And also that night, Christopher Foyle lay in his bed and wept as he hadn't done since the night after he'd buried his wife.