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chapter thirty-three
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there's a place i dream about
where the sun never goes out
and the sky is deep and blue
won't you take me there with you?
-Ivy, "Edge of the Ocean"
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"Morning, everyone," Martin greeted his sisters and their husbands brightly as he entered the kitchen with Sam by his side.
They all murmured greetings in return, and Becca rose from her seat at the table to hug him.
"Now that it's almost noon, Marty... Long night?" She teased, whispering in his ear as they embraced.
Martin said nothing, but gave her his best brotherly death glare, silently willing her not to start things off on the wrong foot. He knew that inviting Sam had been a huge step for them, in a relationship that was already moving quickly due to circumstances outside of their control. And while he could take the pace in stride, he had anticipated Sam's apprehension.
Rebecca, though, was adequately aware and seemingly only wanted to tease him. She immediately smiled warmly at Sam and said, "Hi, Samantha. It's great to see you again."
Sam curled her lips in return and replied in kind, "It's good to see you too, Rebecca."
From the table, Scott cleared his throat, and Martin realized that his brother-in-law was the one member of the family Sam had yet to meet. "Sam, this is Becca's husband Scott. Scott, this is Samantha."
The two exchanged nods and smiles and polite greetings, and he busied himself at the kitchen counter, filling two empty mugs with coffee and then replacing the filter. Returning to stand beside Sam, he handed her one of the mugs and squeezed her free hand reassuringly, wanting to calm her.
"Where are the rugrats?" he asked, turning his neck to look at Caroline.
Tim laughed and began to explain, "I took them down to the beach earlier, but they ditched me in favor of Grandpa. When I left, Kelsey had your father digging a hole in the sand for God knows what reason."
Scott tilted his head and smirked as he said, "But whatever Kelsey wants, Kelsey gets. It must be so hard to be the first grandchild..."
Caroline crossed her arms and arched her eyebrows, leaning forward in her seat and insisting, "You joke, but it's harder than you think!"
Rebecca said nothing, but reached across the table for a paper napkin, balling it in her fist and tossing it in Caroline's direction.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters, Samantha?" Tim asked, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in amusement. "And if you do, do they act like this?"
Martin felt Sam tense up beside him, a subtle change in her breathing as she bit her lip nervously. He appreciated Tim's attempt to make her feel like she was a part of the conversation, but unfortunately he picked a sore subject to draw her in on. Martin slid his arm around her waist, for his own benefit as well as hers. He had yet to find a way to safely broach the subject of her family in a way that would not make her instantly close up and distance herself from him, although the more time went on, the more piqued his interest became.
It was simply another layer to the extremely complex, confusing, complicated relationship they had built between them. He assumed it was mainly from the physical distance between them that they had seemed to fly past certain relationship obstacles while floundering helplessly around others. He vowed silently that the next time the opportunity presented itself, he would find a way to ask her about it, to try to discover what hurt lay buried so deep in her past that she was not on speaking terms with her family.
Sam exhaled so quietly that he almost did not hear it before saying, "I have an older sister... We're both pretty busy, and we don't see each other often." She paused for a beat, and Martin held his breath, waiting until she quipped, "But I'm pretty close to my other team members, and Danny and I could probably put most siblings to shame."
Rebecca took a sip from her mug, which Martin assumed contained some sort of herbal tea instead of the coffee that everyone else was drinking, and said, "Speaking of your team, how long have you been working in Missing Persons?"
Martin felt Sam instantly relax beside him, silently grateful that they had moved on to a subject that she was clearly more comfortable talking about. She leaned in to him just a little and, tilting her head to the side, answered, "About four years now..."
And with that, they began to trade stories from their respective jobs, chatting about nothing and everything at the same time. Martin remained mostly silent, taking in the comfortable scene in front of him and reflecting on how nice it was not to feel like the fifth wheel while with his sisters and their husbands. Although they always actively included him, in the past it had been hard not to feel like the odd man out as the only one hopelessly single. But his life had changed so much in the span of the last four and a half months, and most of those changes revolved around the woman sitting next to him. And he knew that being with Samantha, while she could be confusing and frustratingly closed-off at times, was absolutely worth the effort.
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11:30 am
Samantha sat back against the mesh netting of the beach chair and stretched her arms out in front of her, not bothering to hide her yawn as she flipped to the next page of her book and began to read.
She felt markedly more comfortable and at ease since spending over an hour just sitting and sharing light conversation with Martin's sisters that morning. And while she had not spent too much time in either of his parents' company as of yet, the image of Victor Fitzgerald helping his granddaughters dig a large hole in the sand was not one that she would be forgetting any time soon.
She heard high-pitched squeals and giggles coming from the edge of the ocean, and she peaked over the top of her book as she took in the scene in front of her. Martin held Bridget's hand as they stood by the rising tide. Bridget would let go and run forward, only taking a few quick steps into the oncoming waves before squealing and running back to Martin's side, clinging to his hand.
Martin leaned over to pick her up, hoisting her onto his hip as he laughed. "Too cold, Bee?"
"Mmhmm," Bridget mumbled into his shoulder.
Sam smiled to herself as she watched Martin wade slowly into the water, still holding Bridget in his arms as she looked up adoringly at her uncle.
"That must be a pretty interesting book you're reading there," a voice muttered from just behind her.
Sam blushed and turned her head in time to see Rebecca sit down in the sand beside her chair. "It is."
"Obviously." Rebecca said dryly with a pointed glance towards where Martin stood, now waist-deep in the ocean. "Marty's really happy that you're here this weekend."
A smile played at her lips and she fingered the edge of the next page of her book. "It's really beautiful here," she replied, reading into Rebecca's obvious dig for information.
Rebecca remained silent for a beat, then said, "Do they teach you how to evade questions at Quantico or something? Dad does the same thing all the time."
Sam shrugged her shoulders and chuckled, "That's something you'll have to take up with your father. I am not responsible for Quantico curriculum."
Rebecca traced indistinct patterns in the sand in front of her as she said, "You know, the rest of us are glad that you're here, too. It's good to see Martin with someone who makes him so happy."
Sam remained silent at this, focusing her eyes down towards the water where Martin had set Bridget down and she dashed forward to where her parents sat. Martin then met her eyes and shuffled forward towards her, leaning over her to grab the towel from behind the chair.
"I see you're getting a lot of reading done," he teased and placed a kiss against her temple, taking the book out of her hands.
She swatted his bare chest and chided him playfully, "You're dripping on me."
"Good," he smirked, drying himself off and sitting down with the towel underneath him. He looked over at Rebecca and then up at Sam and said, "So, is she giving you a hard time yet?"
"Nothing that she can't handle," Rebecca replied, matter-of-factly. "Besides, you should be more worried for your own sake. Caro and I have been saving up embarrassing stories for years, and that's not even counting the ones I'm sure Mom has."
"Oh, good," Martin quipped. "I'm so glad I can count on you."
"I do what I can," Rebecca smirked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
From behind them, Sam heard Martin's mother call out that everything was out on the table for lunch and that they should all head inside to clean off. Reluctantly everyone gathered up their towels and beach chairs and retreated up to the house, with Martin and Samantha bringing up the rear.
Sam reached out with her free hand to entwine her fingers with Martin's, walking nearly shoulder to shoulder in step with him. Leaning in to him she murmured, "So, I didn't know your mom cooked. Is this a regular thing?"
Martin shook his head and squeezed her hand. "She doesn't. She has a housekeeper at home for that; here, my best guess is she managed to put bread and lunch meat out on the counter: build your own sandwich."
Reaching the back deck and dropping the beach gear they had been holding, Martin pulled her back to one side and whispered, "See? They love you. I told you there was nothing to worry about."
Sam paused for a beat, shifting her weight as the wooden deck creaked quietly below them. "No, but apparently you do."
Martin laughed and tugged gently on her elbow as he guided them back inside the house.
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