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chapter thirty-two
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i've been watching the world pass by all around me
i've been letting the days go by 'til you found me
baby, what can i do?
i've been out searching for you.
i've got a feeling all i need is a love that's true
-Ivy, "I've Got a Feeling"
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August 30, 2003
Martha's Vineyard
9:00 am
Samantha hugged the terrycloth bathrobe tight around her waist as she padded down the hallway of the Fitzgerald's Martha's Vineyard home. After arriving in the early hours of the morning, she and Martin had helped Caroline and Tim bring the girls in and had then immediately retired to bed, exhausted from the drive. Only when she awoke the next morning did she realize that she did not want Victor and Lydia's first impression of her as Martin's girlfriend to be of her in bed with him, disrespecting them in their family vacation home. So after slipping into the bathrobe, she had quickly left Martin sleeping in the bedroom and now found herself wandering the upstairs hallway of what was far more of a mansion than a vacation home.
As she took in the vast expanse of the hallway, she realized that she had no idea where the rest of Martin's family was and, not wanting her first encounter with them to be alone and in her bathrobe, she turned to go back to Martin's room. As she turned, though, a door to her left creaked open and Caroline stepped out.
"Morning, Samantha," Caroline greeted with a bright smile.
"Morning," Sam replied, grateful that it was only Caroline. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah, I did. I must have been out the second I hit the pillow; that drive is a bitch," she laughed quietly. "The girls were up at the crack of dawn, though; Tm took them down to the beach." Caroline paused to cover her mouth as she yawned, then asked, "So, is Marty still asleep?"
"I, uh ... yes," Sam stuttered, feeling a flush rise up on her cheeks. While she did not feel nervous around Caroline, she was extremely apprehensive about first impressions where Victor and Lydia Fitzgerald were concerned. And from the second she had woken up that morning and fully realized where she was, the inner panic that she had been fighting had been triggered and was now running rampant on her nerves.
Caroline, intuitive in sensing the obvious anxiety, reached out to grip Sam's forearm reassuringly and said, "You know, you really don't have to worry about Mom and Dad. They're very 'don't ask, don't tell' about this kind of stuff. And besides, Martin's not a teenager anymore, and we're not living in the 1950s."
Sam laughed nervously and bit her bottom lip, not entirely reassured.
"If you're really worried about it, talk to Martin. But in the meantime, I'm on the way downstairs to grab some coffee if you want to join me."
"I was just going to try to hop in the shower," Sam explained quickly, resting her hand on her hip. "I just didn't want to risk waking Martin up after the week he had."
Caroline nodded sympathetically and said, "Yeah, from what he's said, the closed hearings this week were pretty draining." After a short pause of not entirely awkward silence, she motioned her hand for Sam to follow. "Here, follow me. I'll show you one of the guest rooms."
Sam fell into step behind Martin's older sister, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head in spite of herself at the mention of one of the guest rooms. She followed Caroline back down the hallway to the room just past the one she had shared with Martin before Caroline opened the door and led Sam inside.
The bedroom was decorated in whites and pale yellows, the curtains wide open with the sun shining in and the ocean visible through the window. It was more elaborate and picturesque than any hotel she had ever stayed at before, and it dawned on her just the kind of money Martin had come from. It was a fact that had always been far more on the periphery of what she instinctively knew about him, as he was never one to flaunt his family's money and it virtually never came up when they were together. But standing here, in one of the guest rooms in one of his family's vacation homes, it hit her far harder than it had when she was at his place in either New York or Georgetown.
Caroline excused herself, and Sam lingered at the window for a few minutes before making her way into the bathroom and turning on the shower. She inhaled deeply as she stepped inside, allowing the steam to wash over her as she mentally willed her nerves to calm down.
She reminded herself that she did want to come with Martin this weekend, and that he had wanted her here as well. She had practically heard him grin through the phone when she agreed to the long weekend away.
"Yes," she said assuredly, smiling to herself. "I do."
She bit her bottom lip as her smile widened and she laughed quietly at her impulsiveness, cradling her phone against her ear.
"I ... uh ... okay," Martin said, his voice nervously endearing. She mentally called up the image of his dimpled grin as she heard his heavy breathing on the other end of the line.
"Okay?" She asked teasingly.
"Yeah," he said, this time more confidently. "Okay."
She shook her head and giggled, and she wondered at the side of Martin that was so different from the confident man she saw arguing policies and funding programs every day in the Senate. And true, Martin was seen as one of the more vibrant, articulate, candid up-and-coming politicians, but this was private and personal, and it was a side of the normally professional, serious Senator that the rest of the country did not get to see. But she did.
"So," she said finally, "Tell me a little bit more about what Labor Day weekend at Martha's Vineyard entails..."
She switched the receiver from one hand to the other, and then tucked it between her ear and her shoulder as he started to reply, "Well, it's really pretty low key. We have reservations at the Chatham Bars Inn on Saturday night, and Uncle Roger will have the grill going and we'll cook out on the beach on Monday. Other than that, we don't have anything planned other than a 10:00 tee time on Sunday morning, which I'm assuming you want no part of ..." he laughed.
"Smart man," Sam murmured into the phone, rolling her eyes playfully although he could not see.
"I think so," he agreed cheekily.
"Yes," she replied, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You would."
After a long pause of remarkably comfortable silence, he changed the subject and began to ask her about the follow up paperwork on their now-closed missing person case. As they traded details of their respective day's happenings, she noticed that not only had the tension and uneasiness in his voice completely dissipated, but that his tone was now light and playful and completely comfortable. She wondered at the thought that her agreeing to accompany him on his family's weekend away had made him so happy. And she considered, briefly, that perhaps this is how the progression of a real relationship was supposed to work.
xx
Stepping out of the shower and toweling herself dry five minutes later, Sam felt considerably calmer in spite of herself. She slipped the terrycloth bathrobe back on before realizing that her clothes, moisturizer, and the rest of her belongings were in her bag, back in Martin's room.
After tightening the tie around her waist, she carefully padded back out to the bedroom and peaked out into the hallway, ensuring that it was clear before stepping quickly to the next room.
She shut the door behind her, and her eyes scanned the room, paying attention to detail as she had not done either last night in her exhaustion or earlier that morning in her temporary panic. This room, too, was decorated in simple but elegant fashion, although in shades of pale blue.
Beside her, she heard the rustling of the sheets as Martin shifted in his sleep. Normally an extremely heavy sleeper, she watched as he rolled over on his side and stretched one arm out over his head.
She chuckled silently to herself as she watched him wake up, temporarily forgetting her original purpose in returning to the bedroom. Still not entirely conscious, he rubbed at his eyes and yawned before smiling at her through tired eyes.
"Good morning," she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and reaching out to pat his bed-tussled hair.
"Morning," he replied softly and coughed to clear his throat. He reached out and fingered the sleeve of her bathrobe; then motioning towards her wet hair, he said, "You didn't wait for me?"
"Well, you were still asleep," she answered, matter-of-factly.
"Yeah," he protested, "But I didn't even hear the shower."
She shook her head. "No, I was in the next room. I just came back because I left my bags in here..."
"Why?" He questioned, pulling her closer and kissing her gently.
"Martin --" she pulled away and explained, "This is your parents' house! We can't stay in the same room. I am trying to make a good impression, am I not?"
Martin furrowed his brows and tilted his head inquisitively. "Sam," he rationalized, "You can't possibly think my parents think... They know I'm not twelve, you know."
"They still don't want us staying together under their roof," she defended, crossing her arms as she sat.
"My parents are very 'don't ask, don't tell' about it, and they are in the master bedroom downstairs. You can keep your bag in the other room if you want, but this is our weekend too, and there's no reason for you to stay in there."
He looked up at her with sincerity, and she considered his words before stuttering her reply, "I, uh, you're sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," he raised his eyebrows and smiled up at her incredulously. He sat up in bed and tugged her hands, pulling her forward and pressing his lips her hers. She responded easily, quickly forgetting her anxiety at the sleeping arrangements or her worried about what his parents really thought of her -- until they finally pulled away for oxygen.
He tucked a loose tangle of her wet hair behind her ear and said, "Why don't we both get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast?"
She blinked and nodded meekly, swallowing the lump of fear that had lodged itself in her throat. He looked at her with expectant, hopeful eyes and she silently prayed that she was strong enough to take whatever would come, both good and bad.
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