Chapter 18

"Sansa," Fr. Sam began, "Do you think that teaching might be something you'd like to pursue?"

Sansa chewed and swallowed, considering this new option. "Well, I do like children and education would be an easier fit with my art history background. " She replied animatedly.

"Tomorrow, you should go and apply to be a substitute teacher, then you can try it out and if you like it, you can work toward a teaching certification." Fr. Sam told her. "I'll write you a wonderful reference."

Sansa beamed, doubly delighted when lemon cakes were served for dessert. Things were really starting to look up for her.

After dinner, Fr. Sam showed Sansa her new chambers. It was very bright and spacious. The suite was basically the third floor. The first floor of the rectory was where the parish offices were, the second floor was Fr. Sam's suite and a large guest room for visiting priests. Sansa's suite was on the third floor, it has a large sitting room, desk and fireplace, a smaller bedroom and private bathroom. It was modest, but spacious. There was another guest room and private bath on that floor, as well. Sansa could hardly contain her delight. "Thank you so much Fr. Sam, this will do splendidly, until we marry." She said grinning at Sandor. Sandor had resumed his usual surly demeanor. Fr. Sam was not put off, recognizing that his friend must be struggling with the surprising new developments. Sansa was so excited; she didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

"Tomorrow you will help me move my things here?" she asked Sandor. He nodded. Fr. Sam patted him reassuringly on the back. They made their way back down the stairs and Fr. Sam bid them goodnight.

He closed the door and watched as Sandor offered his lady his arm, which she happy accepted and smiled lovingly up into his scowling face. He escorted her across the property, back to his apartment, their last night together until their wedding night.

He turned on some lights and put another log on the fire. "Cuppa tea?" he rasped

"Oh, yes please," Sansa said sitting on the couch and covering up with an afghan.

As Sandor brooded and puttered while waiting for the kettle to boil, Sansa realized how quiet he had been since the marriage conversation with Fr. Sam.

Sandor brought over a steaming mug of tea and sat on the couch next to her. The silence was palpable.

"What's bothering you?" she asked, concerned.

Sandor shook his head. He felt overwhelmed, couldn't believe his good fortune. He was afraid it was too good to be true. Deep down what was really bothering him was that he was insecure and afraid with Sansa's new freedom, she would realize, like everyone else would clearly recognize, she could do and deserved so much more than Sandor Clegane. He had nothing to offer; an ugly face, hulking body, unpleasant personality, no money, no education. Why would she want that?

"How could you possibly give up everything for me?" Sandor whispered, looking distraught.

Sansa stared at him blankly, not quite understanding. "I'm not giving anything up." She said confused.

Sandor looked at her, astonished, "But, if you don't marry Harry, then where does your money come from?"

Then it dawned on her, she had discussed her situation with Fr. Sam. Sandor had no idea that Harry had got his money from her. Her inheritance was in her name, it was managed by her attorney, but she received a sizable monthly allowance and quarterly documents showing the status of the investments. She knew Baelish, her attorney, was slimy, but she was astute enough to keep track of her inheritance and all the investments. Sandor knew she didn't drive, but it wasn't because she couldn't afford a car. As a young woman, she had always had drivers, she never learned to drive. Then when they relocated to the small town, Sansa was happy to walk and get fresh air. Sandor probably thought that Fr. Sam was being charitable allowing Sansa residence in the guest suite; while, yes, he was being kind, Sansa was no charity case. She fully intended to compensate his generosity.

Sansa looked him straight in the face, "My money is not connected to Harry's. He became wealthy from the investments he made using some of my money. Now that our engagement is over, I just need to talk to Baelish and cancel anymore funds Harry can use from my accounts. However, it isn't urgent; he has been using his own funds for quite some time. My money is my own. I don't really have to work; I just think it might be good for me. You know, to experience life, hard work, after I have been so sheltered."

Sandor looked at her dumbfounded. He shook his head and laughed out loud. "Here I was, feeling bad that marrying me would subject you to a life to which you are not accustomed. Joke's on me."

"Really, you won't have to work either."

"Of course I'll work what else would I do all day?" Sandor scoffed.

"Well, whatever you want, really." Sansa explained, patiently.

Sandor raised his eyebrow, "I'll let Fr. Sam know I'm not leaving. I like my job here."

The matter seemed settled.

Sansa grinned at him. "Silly Woman," Sandor whispered, pulling her close and kissing her hair. "I guess all we need to do now is decide how we're going to spend our last night together."