Chapter 2

See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer, Spoilers, and Warning

It was just less than quarter over an hour from the time he sent the letter off that there was a knock at his room door. A porter stood on the other side when he opened the door and quickly informed him he had a call and could take it at the front desk. Foyle secured his room and made his way to the front desk, keeping his actions purposeful and deliberate. He did not wish to convey any excitement or impatience in reaching the phone; no need to attract the attentions of others.

Taking the proffered hand set, Foyle kept his voice neutral, even though he knew exactly who was on the other end of the line, he simply said, "Hullo?"

"Christopher?" Sam's voice held equal amounts of desperation, relief, and hope.

His chest clinched involuntary, one brief tight pulsation, just enough to stress his voice slightly, "Yes. Sam, how are you?"

"Better, now."

She didn't have to finish the sentence; he knew she meant now that they were talking. "Alright if we meet?"

"I would like that. I haven't a car though. Would you mind coming to the house?"

"Not at all. When?"

"Soon as you can?"

"Of course."

Foyle returned to his room, retrieved his hat and coat, and was back to his car in mere minutes. He mused over the sound of Sam's voice as he made his way through the streets of London. The congestion of the city was something he would never miss. That thought had broken his analysis of the hints and clues the phone call had presented. Varied disjointed thoughts began to vie for his attention. Why he couldn't maintain his focus on the phone call and Sam's voice confused and annoyed him. Driving! He never liked having to drive when he was trying to think; far too many distractions. Finally, deciding he would see Sam soon and know far more by looking at her than dissecting their brief conversation, he redoubled his efforts to focus exclusively on his driving.

Sam opened the door before he could raise his hand to knock. As he took in the sight of her, he had to fight the urge to pull her into an embrace. She looked as though she were about to crumble both physically and emotionally. One part of his mind reasoned that a reassuring supportive hug would have been quite beneficial to her. However, another part argued that a hug might just break the dam and he didn't think he could endure a crying Sam; not at that moment. The vulnerability he saw in her was so foreign and out of place in the Sam he had known and worked with for so many years. Foyle determined the best way to help her maintain control of her emotions was to not draw attention to them. The thought 'act naturally' passed his mind and he almost got mentally derailed thinking over the how of acting natural. His mouth tensed at the corners under the pressure of his attempt at a smile. Sam's attempt was no better as she stepped back to allow him to enter.

They managed to make their way through a little awkward small talk. Conversation progressed through, very brief, cursory discussions on Hastings since he returned, London since he'd left, Andrew's job in London and Foyle's potential employment options. Finally, fearing their time may be running out, Foyle said, "I think we've avoided the reason for my visit long enough."

Sam's body relaxed the slightest bit, but he noticed the change, just before she nodded in agreement.

Taking that as all the permission he needed, he launched in, "After Adam phoned me a couple of days ago, I made a few discrete inquiries among a few of my contacts here in London. When I heard about the intense and persistent arguing between the two of you." He broke off the statement when he saw the sorrow building in her eyes. "Sorry Sam, but there were multiple witnesses and many instances recounted to me. Each one worse than the last."

She gave him a tight nod and swiped at an errant tear, "No. It's alright. It's all true. Go on."

"They also told me about his public displays of intoxication. And, that he was seen, on more than one occasion, pushing you about."

He leveled a glance at her and she nodded her confirmation.

He could not bring himself to recount anymore, she knew it all already and was likely able to tell by looking at him; he knew it all too. Taking a deep steadying breath he decided to change tack and jump to the end and what he had wanted to say from the moment he heard her voice on the phone, "Well, I decided enough was enough. So, here I am."

She stared at him as though she was barely able to focus; embarrassment evident and to him the apparent cause of her immobility.

Foyle finished his statement, with all the sincerity and conviction he dared, "I won't walk away from you again, Sam."

That seemed to reach her as she blinked a few times, wiped her hands against both eyes and nodded that she had heard him.

Against his attempt to stay neutral, he felt his chest tighten at the thought of what he must say next, "You have every right, of course, to send me away. Tell me it's none of my business." He read her expression and knew that wasn't likely but felt the need to add, "I wouldn't like that, but I would respect your choice."

"No, I wouldn't like that either, Christopher. I don't want you to go away."

That point settled, the tension in his chest relaxed and he ventured, "Good. How can I help?"

"Oh, I don't know." She tried to hide her distress but he knew it more than heard it.

"Fair enough. Where is Adam?"

"I don't know that either. He should be at his office. But, I suppose, he could be anywhere."

"Very well. Do you want to stay here? Or would you rather I get you and Christina a room?"

"I'm sorry Christopher, I just don't know what's best or what I should do."

"Understandable. How about, just decide what to do for the moment. No big decisions, just how we'll spend the morning? Shall we go out for some tea? Have a walk in the park? Stroll about a museum?"

"Yes."

"Which?"

"Any of them, just to..." She glanced around the room

"...'just to'? Get out of here, for a while?" Foyle concluded

"Yes. Thank you."

"Not at all."