The Muse is being fickle lately. Hope this is up to par. After days of fighting with it, the words began to flow again today. Let me know what you think, since that's the only way I have of knowing how I'm doing.

Two days later Christopher was in the front room reading while Sam was banging about in the kitchen under the guise of preparing dinner. A scratching and then the tumbling of the lock sounded at the front door, rousing Christopher from his book with a frown. Standing gingerly because despite his much improved ribs, that motion still seemed to determined to remind him of what Sam was now calling his foolishness.

He'd just made it to the entry when the front door opened revealing his son, Andrew. A slight grin broke across Foyle's face as a counter to the cheeky one plastered on Andrew's visage. "Andrew," Christopher greeted him curiously.

"Hallo Dad," the son replied as he dragged his bag into the front hall. "I've been trying to get away since Sam called me about your accident but we've been busy and I'm just now free. Thought I'd come check on the reluctant patient and be sure he's behaving for his new wife."

A tolerant frown creased Christopher's brow as he digested his son's explanation. "Wull, erm..."

"He's been behaving tolerably well," Sam's voice chimed in from behind him. "Glad you could come, Andrew," she continued in a cheery voice. "Though we could have used a little warning, what with food being scare and all."

In his usual obtuse exuberance, Andrew grinned at her. "I've brought a few things from Town," he said. "Thought things might be a bit scarce and the markets are probably a little better in London. Also thought that if Dad's feeling up to it, we might have dinner at the pub while I'm here."

"Oh no," Sam exclaimed. "Your father is not allowed near a pub until he's healed completely. Consider it as further punishment for his foolishness."

Christopher's lips twitched as he watched Andrew's surprised expression. "Foolishness?" the younger Foyle asked.

"I'll let your father explain," Sam said as she turned to return to the kitchen. "I've a dinner to stretch to feed three." And with that she disappeared.

Andrew looked at his father questionably. "Foolishness, Dad? You?"

"Come in and I'll try to explain," Christopher said as he turned into the front room. "Drink?" he shot over his shoulder as he made his way to the whiskey decanter.

"Small one," Andrew answered before settling in his customary chair.

Christopher poured two drinks from a still meager supply of whiskey. "Fraid it isn't my usual," he said as he handed Andrew a glass. "Still hard to come by."

"Don't I know it," Andrew agreed. "Even in Town." He noticed his father had poured a good finger's worth more for himself. This must be some story...

The elder Foyle settled into his own chair and took a sip from his glass. Observing that his father didn't seem inclined to speak, Andrew asked again, "foolishness?"

"Right. Wish Sam hadn't said it quite like that," Christopher replied.

"Sam told me you had an accident; didn't say anything about foolishness."

"Mmmm, suppose she didn't want to worry you too much. Nor explain much. Guess she's ready for it now though." Christopher took another sip for courage. "She was attacked, Andrew. Two men ... before I left for America. I knew about it then; she even stayed here for a few days when it happened. But I thought she was better by the time I left. Came back to find that she wasn't. That's when I realized how much we meant to one another. "

"Right. But... attacked?"

"Yes... erm ... she'd been out with some friends, coming home from the pub and these two followed her, caught her unawares."

"Did... Dad, they didn't... " Andrew's face revealed his level of concern... and anger.

Watching his son, Christopher decided not to answer the unspoken question. "Anyway, I got word they were back in Hastings and ... wull, couldn't let them think they got away with it. Followed them from a pub down by the water and ... wull, they were about to go after another young woman and I... erm, stopped them."

"And they beat you."

"Yup. Face is healed but the ribs still a bit sore. Sam was angry with me and perhaps fairly so, but I just couldn't..."

"Yeah, I get it Dad. But to go after them alone?"

"Wull, suppose that was a bit foolish," Christopher grimaced. "Would do it again though, to protect Sam."

Andrew had leaned forward in his chair as his father talked but now settled back against it. "Yes, I can see you would. Can't blame you Dad, but maybe next time take someone with you, hmmm?"

"There won't be a next time," Sam said darkly from the dining room. Both men looked at her, startled to see anger in her expression.

"Right," Andrew agreed readily. But Christopher merely nodded, acknowledging her without promising anything because he knew he would never tolerate anyone hurting Sam again.

"Sam, that's the best meal I've had in some time," Andrew said later as they finished their dinner. "Thank you."

"Yes Love," Christopher said from his place across from Sam. "Splendid job with so little rations. Thank you." He knew she was still frustrated with his remark to Andrew earlier and in an effort to soften her up a bit, he even allowed a small smile at the corner of his mouth as his eyes twinkled. Even more amusing to him was Andrew's expression at his endearment for Sam. Enjoying his son being off kilter, he then teasingly added, "you're a marvel in the kitchen." Her small huff and shy grin told him his tease was working. Turning his attention back to his son, Christopher continued the light mood. "Did you know son, that when I first knew Sam, her only dish was Coq au Vin, without the vin?"

Andrew chuckled. "I didn't. Just how does one prepare Coq au Vin without wine anyway?" Both men looked at Sam, who giggled. "Well what do expect form a vicar's daughter?"

Christopher would never be able to explain how Sam's laughter and giggles made him feel. But it was as if something inside him that had been knotted up had suddenly been untied. It was always like that whenever she was upset with him and then later forgave him or at least came to terms with what he'd said or done. It was the best feeling in the world, he mused as his son and his wife continued in conversation. As he watched her though, he couldn't follow the conversation closely enough to comment. All he could do was marvel at the gift that was Sam.

Andrew's visit lasted two days. Christopher caught his son eyeing Sam a time or two, speculating about just what her attack involved, no doubt. But Christopher supplied no more information about the event.

They did go to the pub on Andrew's second night in Hastings after Sam relented for "this one special occasion". The look in her eye as she made her pronouncement had stirred Christopher in ways he didn't think she had anticipated. By the morning of Andrew's last day with them, Christopher was almost eager for his son to leave. As good as the visit had been and as much as he enjoyed having his son underfoot again, Sam had declared the walls of the house paper thin and denied Christopher any release with Andrew in the house. After his second attempt to rouse Sam and her second refusal last night, Christopher had grumbled something about new walls before he rolled away from temptation to try to find sleep. There'd be no Andrew on this night though, Christopher reminded himself as he eyed his wife over the breakfast table. Her answering look made him even more eager for Andrew's departure.

"When's your train, Andrew?" Christopher tried to sound sad that the visit was ending but seeing the smirk on Sam's lips just before she sipped from her tea cup, he knew he failed.

"Oh, it leaves at 2:00. Or at least that what the station master told me. Trains don't seem to run on time since the war though."

"Right, yes..." Christopher agreed. "Shame."

Sam rolled her eyes as Andrew stared at him perplexed. "I'll assume you meant that about trains in general and not about my train today."

"Yup... 'course," Christopher replied softly, glancing over at Sam just in time to see her duck her head. Hiding her mirth, no doubt...

The train departed on schedule and Christopher sent a silent thanks to heaven for the small favor as he and Sam watched it pull away. "Home?" he asked her as they turned to leave the station.

"To put you out of your misery is what you really mean, isn't it?" She retorted.

"Mmmm, perhaps. "

Suddenly she stopped and turned to him. "Christopher, you really must try and behave yourself whenever Andrew is around."

He looked at his wife, who was wearing her most serious expression. "Because he's still just a little infatuated with you, you mean?"

"No! Well, maybe. I don't know. But... he's happy for you, for us I think, but there was something ... something bothered him. And you weren't helping him with your misbehavior."

Foyle's tongue dug deep into his cheek. "Wull, had to reconcile what happened to you. And I do think he sees you and can't help but wonder if he made a mistake when he wrote you that letter. Sometimes, I wonder..."

Sam put her fingers against his lips immediately to stop him from speaking. "No. I wouldn't be better off if he hadn't written that letter. Andrew was close to what I needed... need. A near miss. You ... well, I just can't imagine things being any different. I'm happier with you than I ever imagined I could be. And I think I make you happy too?"

Christopher looked into her searching, questioning eyes and smiled a genuine smile. "After Rosalind... Never thought I'd know happiness again. Contentment maybe, but not happiness. But now... Oh Sam, please never doubt that you make me happy." The tears that gathered in her eyes matched his own as the couple silently turned and walked arm in arm to the car.