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chapter twenty-five
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nothing matters
except life and the love you make
-Coldplay, "Crest of Waves"
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May 17, 2003
3:00 pm
Martin snuck down the now-familiar hospital corridor and into Samantha's room, carefully checking the bag tucked underneath his armpit and ensuring that it was still in place. Although he knew staff members were bound by confidentiality and HIPAA regulations not to reveal any information about a patient's identity, he knew he could be fair game in the media if he did not proceed cautiously.
At this point, he knew that he was committed to this for the foreseeable future and that he would eventually like for people to know. But he did not want to push too hard just yet, especially given the events of the past few days.
He quickly entered her room and closed the door behind him, finding her sitting up in bed doing the Times crossword puzzle.
She looked up. "Hey Mr. Senator," she said teasingly. "Former nuclear agency, abbreviation, three letters."
He bent over to kiss her, and laughed. "What, no 'hi, how are you?'"
"Not really, no," she smiled and turned her nose up as she motioned to her leg. "I think I get to play that card for a few more days."
He pulled the chair up to sit right beside the bed. "So, how are you feeling?"
"Better, much better," she nodded honestly. "Whatever they're giving me is making me tired, though."
He reached out to squeeze her hand. From everything the doctors had said, she really did seem to be improving quickly, and if things stayed on schedule, she would be released in just a few days. There would still be several months of painful physical therapy, but he knew Sam would be as determined as anyone. She seemed content enough at the moment, though he could sense a degree of nervous energy; Sam did not like to sit still for very long.
"I brought you something," he said, and he lifted the bag out from under his arm. He opened the bag and revealed several sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. The foil crinkled as he laid the sandwiches down on the bed in front of her. "Aunt Bonnie went crazy with her panini grill at lunch. I thought you might like some real food," he explained.
She raised her eyebrows and laughed, "I thought food was supposed to be the way to a man's heart."
"If you don't want them ..." he trailed off with a grin, reaching forward as he pretended to confiscate the sandwiches.
She shook her head and slapped his hand away, and he once again appreciated just how well their conversation the previous evening had gone as far as relieving the tension between them.
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Martin took a deep breath as he watched Sam flip channels anxiously, pressing the remote control buttons with far more force than necessary. Last night, when she had been waking up from the anesthesia, things had been far more comfortable between them, but now that she was fully awake and oriented once again, the large metaphorical elephant had returned in full force.
"Samantha," he warned, as she passed the TV Land MASH marathon for the fourth time.
"What?" she answered defensively, turning the television off and dropping the remote with a sigh.
"I know we've been working on a mutual agreement not to mention anything that might set us off, but I really think now might be a good time for us to have the talk we were planning on having last night." She looked at him questioningly, and he realized that she was just trying to circumvent the subject for as long as possible. "Okay, so maybe I was the only one who wanted to have that talk. But that doesn't change the fact that we need to talk about this."
"Alright," she agreed, giving a tight nod. "If you promise to stay put this time. I'm not great at following even when I have full use of my legs."
Underneath her sarcasm, he could sense her hurt at the way that he had practically flown from her apartment the night that he found out. He quickly wracked his brain for the right words, knowing that the wrong ones would set them back even further and that he could not afford to work swimming that far upstream. "I'm sorry, Sam," he said softly. "When you first told me about Jack, you ... it was definitely not what I was expecting. You don't mention him very often when you talk about work; my mind didn't even go there." He paused, recollecting his thoughts while she stared intently back at him. "I just ... overreacted."
He wondered what was running through her mind, and held his breath as he waited for her to reply. She inhaled deeply and tilted her head to look up at him. She spoke slowly and deliberately, and he realized that she was just as nervous about treading into these waters as he was. "I can't lie and say that what I had with Jack didn't mean something to me at the time," she said softly. "But it's over, it's been over, and it's in the past."
"I know, and I believe you," he said honestly, "but I can't help feeling a little bit jealous, you know. I just keep thinking that maybe old feeling die hard..."
Sam crossed her arms protectively across her chest, and he studied her face carefully as she replied. "Old feelings don't die, they just ... fade. And then you feel bad that they faded, because you wonder ... you wonder what they meant when you had them."
He smiled weakly down at her, still searching for reassurance. "Well, I guess if they didn't fade, there wouldn't be room for new ones."
She reached out to take his hand in hers, "No, I guess there wouldn't," she said, lips curling slowly upward as she allowed her eyes to fully meet his. "It's not something I'm particularly proud of, but at the same time, I don't want to focus on the past anymore. Right now, I'm happy." His gaze intensified, his eyes hiding nervous hopefulness and excitement. She smiled and continued, "You make me really, really happy."
He searched his brain for a profound response. He found none. "Me too," he said, and he grinned broadly.
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9:00 pm
Martin now sat at the desk in his office, glancing over the specific wordings of a new healthcare reform bill that had been introduced late in the week.
He had spent several hours at the hospital that afternoon, but Sam had tired quickly when they gave her more pain medicine. He left her sleeping soundly, with a note to call him later if she got bored and wanted company.
Martin took another sip from his coffee mug, his eyes crossing as he attempted to focus on the document open on the computer screen. He knew he needed to be reading this more closely; Mike Lively was known for introducing strange loopholes in legislation that he needed to catch before floor discussion was complete.
A shrill ring echoed from his home line, and he instinctively knew that this would be the last distraction for the evening: healthcare reform would have to wait until he returned to Washington the next day.
"Hello?" He answered, recognizing his father's cell number on the caller ID.
"Martin," his father's gruff voice replied. "I'm pulling into your driveway; I just wanted you to know who it was when I get to the front door."
Without another word, he heard the other line go silent as his father ended the call. Less than a minute later, a sharp knock came from the door and he hurried to answer it. "Thanks for the advance warning, Dad," he rolled his eyes and spoke softly, as though his father might hear his muttering. He plastered a tight, fake smile on his face and opened the door. "Hi, Dad, come on in."
"How are you doing, son?" His father asked, walking ahead into the living room.
"Fine," Martin replied, able to hide the perplexed look on his face as he followed. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Victor took a seat on the sofa and carefully inspected the framed photograph of the entire family sitting on one of the end tables. "We just haven't seen much of you this weekend."
"You rushed out of Bridget's party the second you got a call from the office. Don't give me that," Martin said warningly. Caroline and Rebecca both knew exactly where he had been and, from a few comments his mother had made, he guessed she was not far off from guessing the truth, either. But where his mother had fully mellowed with grandchildren, his father still occasionally clung hard to his old ways and had obviously not noticed, even though he was not actively hiding it from his family.
"Yes, but you've seemed distracted. Are you sure everything is alright? Nothing big has happened in session this week, has it?" His father's tone emulated a strange mix of professional advisor and fatherly concern.
Martin furrowed his eyebrows and chose his words carefully. "I told you, I'm fine. Everything is going well; I've just been looking for the loopholes in Lively's latest healthcare reform bill."
"Lively is a complete idiot. I've heard rumors that Dustin Martel is the frontrunner to challenge him when he comes up for re-election next year."
Martin nodded in agreement before deciding that he should be forthcoming with his suspicions about his father's behavior. Victor sounded like he was making small talk, and his father never minces words unless absolutely necessary. "Dad? Is everything alright with you?"
"Yes, yes, of course. Everything is fine," Victor said distractedly, still gazing at the frame on the end table.
"And this doesn't have anything to do with why you were called away on Thursday?" Martin pushed, still trying to decipher the meaning of his father's sudden visit.
His father turned back to look at him, his tone suddenly sounding much more certain. "No, that all turned out alright. I was supposed to pick up a few files from Agent Van Doren, and she called to tell me that she had not had a chance to give them back to her secretary because she had been detained due to a hostage situation. I had to travel further across town to get to her." Victor trailed off and frowned, "The two agents that were hostages, they were agents on Malone's team. I thought you would want to know that they are both going to be alright. One of them got shot, but it was --"
"A through and through," Martin interrupted, not feeling up to hearing his father's version of events. Victor looked up, confused, and Martin began to explain, "I know, Dad. It was Sam."
"Sam?" Victor repeated emphatically.
"Yes," he replied simply. "They think she'll be ready to go home by Tuesday."
"And you and Sam are ...?"
Martin nodded; this was not how he envisioned the conversation going. "We are."
"And you--"
He threw up his hands in protest. "Don't, just ... don't," he said. "Yes, I do know. It's not a problem for us, so it shouldn't be a problem for you."
Victor sighed, his expression verging between shocked and wounded. "No, Martin," he said in a low voice. "All I wanted to ask was if you're happy."
Martin frowned, trying to gauge if his father was really hurt by the conclusions he'd drawn. It seemed as honest as his father had ever been with him, and Martin felt a slight ache in his heart. "Yeah," he breathed, recalling her words from the previous evening. "She makes me really, really happy."
His father gave a rare smile. "Then that's all I need to know."
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