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chapter thirty-nine
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"if it's love" she said
"then i guess we're gonna have to think
about the consequences"
-Counting Crows, "Anna Begins"
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September 2, 2003
7:45 am
Samantha discarded her jacket and took a seat at her desk, immediately pulling at the stack of paperwork waiting for her in her inbox. She sifted through the paperwork, sorting through case reports, old phone records, and other assorted junk mail that was immediately placed in the shredder. She had chosen to arrive into work early that morning not only to clear out her inbox, but also to successfully avoid the rush right at 8:00 as most of her coworkers scrambled to get in on time after a holiday weekend.
"Good morning, Samantha." Sam turned around just in time to see Vivian throw her coat over the back of her chair and shuffle over until she was standing right behind where she sat. "I thought you might get here early today," Viv continued with a sly grin. "Rumor has it you made quite an exit on Friday afternoon."
Sam shrugged her shoulders innocently and laughed with her friend. "Did you get called in over the weekend?" she asked.
"No." Vivian shook her head with a smile. "The head of Marcus' department had a cookout last night, and I actually got to go for a change. I think most of his colleagues were shocked; some of them were of the impression that I was just a figment of his imagination and I didn't really exist."
Sam laughed. "I guess that comes with the job."
"Yeah, it does." Viv shifted her weight and leaned back, supporting herself against the edge of Sam's desk. "Anyway, how was your weekend?"
"It was great," Sam replied, biting back a smile. "It was nice to be able to get away for the weekend."
"I bet," Vivian crossed her arms and smiled. "You must not get much time to yourself between your schedules."
"No, we don't," Sam said, shifting her weight in the chair as she leaned forward to pick up a pen and her notepad as she noticed the rest of the team start to file in.
The two women both began to collect up their things and move to gather at the conference table when Vivian turned, looking her straight in the eyes, and said, "I'm really happy for you, Samantha."
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10:10 am
Martin sighed as he flipped back the pages of his agenda for the rest of the day. His body jerked as the car hit a bump in the road, and his driver put down the dividing screen just long enough to apologize.
"Senator Fitzgerald?" The voice beside him questioned, and Martin quickly turned his neck to give his primary advisor, Rick Harvey, his full attention. Rick handed him another file folder that held carefully laminated pages, and said, "These are the changes you wanted to make for your speech to the high school this afternoon."
"Great, thanks." Martin began to flip through the pages, skimming over the lines as he refreshed his memory. After spending the majority of the morning reading in the library with underprivileged children at one of the inner city elementary schools, he was scheduled to have lunch with the city school board and then attend an assembly and question and answer session at one of the magnet high schools that specialized in government and international studies.
Beside him he heard Rick answer his cell phone, but he did not listen in, knowing that Rick would let him know if it was anything that concerned him. He continued reading over his brief speech before reviewing a few sample questions for the question and answer session part of the high school's assembly. Getting sidetracked after reading the eighth version of the exact same question on the changing situation in the Middle East, Martin found his mind beginning to wander to the previous evening and hoping that Sam's day was shaping up to be more interesting than his. He did hope, however, that any case she and the team might be working did not interfere with the plans they had made for dinner this evening.
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He could not take his eyes off of her as she sat just inches away from him on the sofa. They had been completely silent since she had answered his question, barring the sound of her steady breathing and the thumping of his own racing heart. He was certain that he had never felt an adrenaline rush quite like this before, leaving him paralyzed instead of feeling the urge to run a marathon. But he had laid it all on the line when he had asked Samantha, however indirectly, on her views for their future, and he was still trying to process her answer.
He rarely ever acted on impulse like that. Particularly when they had never directly spoken of their plans for the future, preferring to deal with their relationship on a day-by-day basis and tackling the issues as they arose rather than anticipating them. But it was becoming harder and harder to dismiss the fact that he saw more between them in spite of the obstacles, and one day hoped that they could both make sacrifices in order to make their relationship something more permanent.
He was always careful about voicing those desires to Sam, though, worrying about pushing too hard or too fast between her own obvious fear of long term commitment and the added hurdles of their respective careers.
Sensing her need for reassurance, the silence feeding on her insecurities, he turned and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. He said nothing and instead let his touch speak for him, linking their fingers together and dropping a chaste kiss against her lips. They sat in a now comfortable silence for a few minutes, simply relishing the time when they could be close to each other without any other outside pressures.
Finally, however, Sam lifted her head from where it had been resting at the crook of his neck. Smirking, she said, "I still don't get what you were so embarrassed about. That's a cute story for a first girlfriend."
Martin shook his head, laughing. "I'm not telling you," he insisted, moving his hands in aimless gestures until they fell back to rest against Sam's shoulders.
Her lips curled into a smile as she said, "Oh."
"Oh, what?"
"I get it now," she remarked, matter-of-factly. "That story wounds your tough-guy ego, doesn't it?" He gave her a pointed look, but she would not be deterred. "You're embarrassed that she made the first move!" she finished triumphantly, looking extremely pleased with herself.
He chose not to reply, on the assumption that some questions are better left unanswered, and instead countered, "I made the first move with you, didn't I?"
Sam thought about this for a few moments and said, "If I'm remembering this correctly -- and correct me if I'm wrong --" she held her hands up for emphasis, "Wasn't it your niece who made the first move?"
Martin shook his head defiantly. "Completely different. I noticed you long before Kelsey drew that picture."
"Delia Rivers' memorial service seems like a lifetime ago," Sam remarked, her voice suddenly airy and distant.
He lifted her chin with his index finger. "Is that a bad thing?" he asked, searching her eyes for an answer.
"No." She replied instantly and with certainty, and he found this reassuring. "It's just... What are we supposed to tell people? We met at a funeral, or we got to know each other when I worked the case when his nieces went missing. Either way sounds kind of ... I don't even know."
"Dark and morbid?" he suggested, now understanding her point a little better.
She shrugged and her posture slackened. "Yeah. It's just... it's not like that. How did you explain it to your family?"
"I didn't." He replied, and he pulled her closer to him as she eyed him suspiciously. "They never really asked." She settled into him, accepting his explanation, and he said. "All we really need to tell them is that we met at a social function that we were both attending through work, and after we got to know each other better, we decided to give things a try and see what would happen. Everything else is our business."
"Okay." She agreed easily, sighing audibly as her breathing evened out against him.
"Tell you what?" He suggested. "Since I don't have to leave for DC until the red eye on Wednesday morning, let's go out and do something tomorrow night."
"Like what?" she sat up straight and asked.
"I don't know. Dinner somewhere, something casual." He paused and worked his tongue in his cheek. "Normal couple things that don't necessarily involve suits and formal evening wear."
"Okay," she replied, biting her bottom lip pensively as she repeated her affirmation. "Normal couple things."
He let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.
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He forced attention back to the notes in front of him, but as he finished reading, he felt Rick's eyes intent upon him. Turning toward his advisor as Rick muttered his goodbyes and shut the phone, Martin gave him a pointed look in silent question.
"It seems your vacation this past weekend has caught the attention of a few media outlets," Rick replied, placing the phone back in his jacket pocket. "A few of the local papers have called this morning looking for a statement, and they've been directing the messages through me."
Martin furrowed his eyebrows, shifting his weight nervously in the seat. "What kind of statement?"
Rick gave him a look that implied that he had better be kidding, and said after a beat, "The public loves you, you know. You're young, you give them a new perspective, you're not afraid to tell the truth. They appreciate that." Rick paused until Martin gave him a nod to indicate he was still listening, and said. "And -- up until Saturday night -- they were under the impression that you're single and available. You can't blame them for being interested."
Martin shrugged his shoulders. "I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea that other people find my life so interesting; it's not like I'm some big Hollywood star."
Without missing a beat, Rick pulled out his palm pilot and began to scan through for one thing or another and, eyes never deterring from their search, said, "In some ways, you're far more interesting." Martin eyed his advisor skeptically, and Rick either did not notice or chose not to acknowledge him. Finding whatever he had been looking for on the palm pilot, Rick looked up and nonchalantly said, "If you could give me a statement before we have lunch with the school board, that would be great. I assume they'll want to slip something in before they go to print this evening."
Martin sighed. "They're going to have to wait, Rick. I want to talk to Sam first."
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