Sam opened the car's hood and stared at the engine with a lump in his throat. The tool box in his arms suddenly felt like it was made out of lead. He wanted more than anything to call his father. He would know what the problem was without even needing to see the car in person. If only Sam knew that their time together would be so short. He would have been a better son, one who would make his father proud. His father would be so ashamed to see him standing there with no idea where the battery was or how to fix it.
Sam's father had offered numerous times to teach him about cars, but Sam had always turned him down. There were landscapes to paint, soccer balls to chase, and girls to date. Fixing cars could wait for a little while. If only he knew later would never come. Now he'd never get the chance to apologize for his "terrible teens."He'd never get the chance to learn at the feet of Iowa's best mechanic. Those regrets would follow him like a shadow for the rest of his life.
Sam dug through the glove compartment hoping to find the owner's manual. There had to be a diagram or something else that could help him. Unfortunately, all he found was a few napkins and a first aid kit. He laid his head down on the dashboard. Why couldn't he catch a single break? His wife, father, and home had all been taken from him. All he had left was a rusty civic that wouldn't even start.
Sam was about to close the glovebox when Hannah's old driver's permit caught his eye. She was so excited to learn how to drive, but the driver's ed teacher refused to have her in his class. Girls like her didn't get to attend driver's ed, prom, or high school graduation. Sam was outraged and promised that he would teach her instead. It was the least he could do given his role in her situation. It was a promise he would never get the chance to fulfill.
Sam started out with the best of intentions. What he hadn't anticipated was how difficult teaching his wife to drive would be. Hannah was anxious behind the wheel and his overly cautious nature didn't help matters much. Most lessons ended with one or both in tears. Distracted by the move and his new job, Sam allowed Hannah's lessons to fall by the wayside. He would teach her later after they'd had some time to settle into their new city. Like with his father, later never game. While he was glad Hannah had learned to drive, Sam was disappointed Ian was the one to teach her.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Sam took a second look at the engine. He started tightening bolts at random. Although he was fairly certain no one was listening, he prayed that he was on the right track. He tried the ignition twice, but had no luck. He'd have to go inside and admit that he had no idea what he was doing. Ian, who wasn't completely useless, would fix the engine without breaking a sweat. Hannah would fawn over him and wonder why she had ever given Sam Park the time of day.
Angered by the thought of Ian saving the day, Sam slammed the hood closed. He jumped back when the engine roared to life. How was that even possible? The keys weren't even in the ignition. He looked up at the ceiling and wondered if there really was someone listening. He immediately felt a little foolish. If there was a God he wouldn't have let things go to hell in a handbasket. There had to be a rational explanation. Sam didn't know what that explanation was, but he was certainly glad that he had finally caught a break.
Hannah entered the parking garage with a spring in her step. "You got the engine started!" she exclaimed. "Awesome!" She wrapped her arms around Sam's chest. "I knew you could do it!"
Sam smiled. It was great to finally see her smiling. The hug certainly didn't hurt either.
"Are you ready to go?" Sam asked. "We could meet Ian at home."
"There's something I'd like to show you first." Hannah said. "Trust me, it's worth your while."
Sam was disappointed. He was desperate to spend some one on one time with his wife. They slept in separate rooms and touches were few and far between. They hadn't even kissed yet. He wanted to believe things would go back to normal if Ian left, but feared that wouldn't be the case. Fives years was a long time to be apart.
Hannah lead Sam though the main building. Thor's Hammer prided itself on providing 24/7 service, yet there wasn't a single person around. There were abandoned cups of coffee and scattered papers visible on many of the desks. It was as if everyone had gotten up and left in the middle of the work day. Sam hoped whatever Hannah had to show him would be quick. The abandoned building gave him the creeps.
Hannah stopped in front of tinted glass door. "This is my office," she said with a small smile. "They gave me a promotion. I'm now the assistant manager of marketing."
"Congratulations," Sam said. "I'm so proud of you!"
Sam meant what he said. No one was more deserving of a promotion that Hannah. She always did everything to the best of her ability and never gave up.
"I see you still have my last name." Sam continued. "I assumed that you would have changed it by now."
"Julia asked me not to." Hannah shrugged. "Once a Park sister, always a Park sister.
Although that wasn't quite the answer he was hoping for, Sam was satisfied. It meant a lot to see that the pair were still close. He'd assumed the worst when he learned Hannah had sent Julia to New York.
"Come on, there's still something else I need to show you." Hannah took Sam's hand. "If you think this place is creepy wait until you see the basement."
If Sam had to make a list of fears spiders would definitely be in the top ten. No creature should have so many eyes and hairy legs. Unfortunately for Sam, the basement of Thor's Hammer seemed to be the go to hang out spot for every spider in the city. The ceiling looked like someone was planning a halloween party. Sam hoped whatever Hannah wanted to show him was a one time deal. He was never setting foot in the basement again.
After walking through what felt like endless dark hallways, they arrived at the IT Storage room. Like the rest of the basement it was cold, damp, and dirty. Sam's unease evaporated when he noticed something tucked away in the corner.
"Is that what I think it is?" Sam asked, pointing to a wooden trunk. "Yep." Hannah replied. "Surprise."
"I thought you got rid of my stuff." Sam opened the trunk and found his sketchbooks, paintbrushes, and easel. "How did my art supplies get here?"
"You can thank Ian for that."
Sam looked at Ian. What an odd thing for him to do. Why on earth would he save the belongings of his girlfriend's ex. Most people he knew would have had a bonfire in the parking lot.
"Hannah told me it was too painful to be surrounded by reminders of you. Like it or not you weren't coming back. " Ian said. "I came over and we boxed everything up. Hannah couldn't bare to throw it away, so I agreed to donate it to Henry House." Ian paused and looked at Hannah. "I worried that Hannah would want your things back someday, so I brought everything here."
"Are my clothes here too?" Sam asked.
"Yes." Ian posted to a stack of rubber bins. "The rest of your stuff is in there."
"Everything except your paintings." Hannah added. "I wouldn't throw those away. They're spit between my office, your sister, and the Moma."
"As in the Museum of Modern Art in New York?" Sam asked.
"Yep." Hannah nodded. "It's part of an exhibit called "Art of the lost. You can thank your sister for showing your work to the director."
Sam grinned from ear to ear. Having his work in a museum had always been his dream. All it took was dying for it to come true. He would call to thank his sister as soon as the phone lines were working again.
"You can see the exhibit next week." Ian offered. "Stark Industries is flying me in for Tony Stark's memorial. I doubt they would mind a few stowaways."
"Sounds like a plan." Sam said. "I'd also like to see my sister."
After thanking Ian and checking the box for spiders, Sam went to the bathroom. He was eager to change into his own clothes. Ian's pants were far too big and the shoes were pinched his toes. Worst of all was the shirt. The red polo felt like it was made out of burlap. Sam had been scratching his back raw all morning. How Ian managed to wear something like that was beyond him.
Sam was looking for his favorite t-shirt when he found something strange. It was a picture of May Parker, a famous painter, with her arms wrapped around a scrawny picture had been taken at a gallery opening in New York. Sam knew that because he'd been there. He flipped the photo over and found a note that said, To Peter, my number one Fan. Love, Aunt May.
Sam looked down at his feet. He was still wearing Ian's shoes. May Parker was known for her odd choices in canvas materials. The New York skyline she painted on her nephew's shoes had gained worldwide attention. If May Parker was Ian's aunt that made Ian none other than Peter Parker. Unsure of what to do with this information, Sam stuffed the picture into his pocket. Someone had a lot of explaining to do. He just hoped Hannah didn't end up getting hurt.