Chapter 3
See Chapter 1 for Disclaimer, Spoilers, and Warning
Foyle had suggested she collect some things for herself and Christina in the event she opted not to return home right away. Two small bags accompanied Christina's pram and day bag in the backseat of his car.
With a stop by his hotel so he could deposit the extra items in his room, for while they were out, the three were soon off for a stroll in a nearby park. They walked for a long quiet period. Christina's babbles the only sounds any of them uttered for close to half an hour. Foyle had felt the high tension levels slowly recede to more moderate levels. He knew, at present, there was no chance Sam's tension would totally subside, but any reduction was welcomed. To encourage the continued reduction of her stress he revisited a few of their earlier topics of conversation; specifically Andrew's job and life in London and his own job options in Hastings. They chatted amiably, as they had in the past, with one significant difference; Foyle did the majority of the talking.
During a lull in the conversation, Foyle watched the smaller version of Sam take in the sights around her. The child's hair, eyes, coloring and smattering of freckles across her face combined in a near perfect likeness of Sam. Her wonderment of discovery and persistent expression of fascination and curiosity completed the replication of her mother. He had to admit he had missed Christina as much as he had missed Sam. When he had first held her, nearly a year earlier, it had seemed unfamiliar and as uncomfortable as though he had never before held a baby. Which was not the case of course, it had been years since Andrew had been so small, but Foyle had put in many hours of holding and interacting with his infant son. Rosalind had committed a few times, that he was more physically active and emotionally attached to their son than any father she had ever known. He never had been able to tell her it was because he had worried if anything were to happen to him his son wouldn't know how much he had loved him. It had never once crossed his mind in those early years that it could be Rosalind that something could happen to.
After a little practice, mostly on learning to relax around her, Foyle became quite comfortable holding and interacting with Christina. It had become a regular practice, provided he didn't have a work obligation to interfere, for him to visit Sam around lunchtime. Early on, when Christina was only a couple of months old, he had noticed her tell when she was getting tired. She would raise her right hand and roll it against the side of her head between her temple and ear. As she got older she would flip her fingers through the hair that grew in that spot. He could always tell when the little girl was sleepy, but that did not always mean she was willing to go to sleep.
One day, when Christina was about four or five months old, Sam had said the baby had been especially fussy before he arrived. He found nothing had changed upon his arrival either. On a blanket in the middle of the front room floor, lay a decidedly unhappy baby girl with her right hand worrying the side of her head. As soon as he secured Christina in a firm hold against his chest he began whispering softly to her. The next thing Foyle realized, he had begun petting his fingers, in long steady strokes, along her forehead just above her eyebrows, down her temple, behind her ear and down her neck. He continued the tender caresses and soft murmuring while she calmed and eventually fell asleep. Sam declared him to have the magic touch for putting her daughter to sleep. Most afternoons, while Sam fixed their lunch Foyle would coax Christina into her afternoon nap. As the months went on, he was often afforded a few minutes play time before she settled for her nap. He and Sam would, as much as he was permitted, discuss his current case or associated puzzlement while they ate. In addition to their lunches together, he was an invited dinner guest of the little family's at least once a week. Most of those evenings provided him the opportunity of joining Christina's bedtime rituals, including his favorite; story reading, while she fell asleep in his arms.
They returned to the hotel after their walk in the park and settled into the hotel parlor, off the lobby, in silent mutual agreement. Foyle lifted Christina from her pram and settled her on his lap, tucking her against his chest. He had seen her hand at the side of her head as they had entered the hotel and figured a nap for her would help them all. As he set to work on lulling her to sleep he felt her left arm push up between them, her hand snake up his neck past his left ear and then her tiny fingers as they twitched against the ends of his hair. While he focused his attentions on soothing her into her rest, she idly flipped her little fingers in her hair on the right and his on the left. It wasn't long before he began to wonder which of them would fall asleep first. Ultimately, he managed to outlast her, but if it hadn't been for the pressing need to discuss several more important items with Sam, he would have happily succumbed to the hypnotic draw to sleep by the babe in arms.
In hushed tones the two adults managed to complete the necessary discussions surrounding what and how Sam needed to proceed in dealing with Adam and her marriage. Eventually, it was decided that Foyle would take Sam and Christina to their uncle Aubrey's. It would be a safe haven for whatever period of time was required to work through the rest of the decisions Sam had made that afternoon.
When they arrived, Foyle exited the car and came around to lift a sleeping Christina from her mother's arms, so Sam could climb out of the car unencumbered. The child stirred with being disturbed and began to fuss in protest. Foyle lazily stroked her back and uttered soothing words gently against her soft hair. As Sam exited the car he made eye contact, dissuading her from rounding to the boot for their bags, with a brief shift of his eyes. She moved passed the car and knocked swiftly on the vicarage door before trying the handle. The door swung open with a soft bump as it stopped against the wall. Uncle Aubrey smiled a silent welcome in deference to the sleeping child. When the door closed softly behind them Foyle turned to Sam's uncle and offered his right hand as he deftly eased Christina a little higher up onto his arm. Assured that her daughter was again sound asleep, Sam extracted a promise from her uncle tell no one of their presence in his home; not her parents and especially not Adam. Fear her parent's would disclose her location, out of some misguided belief that a husband had the unquestionable right to know where his wife was, prompted Foyle to insist on their way there that Sam extract the additional promise from her uncle. He knew it was a difficult thing for the vicar to agree to, so as soon as Sam had gone upstairs to put her sleeping daughter to bed, he urgently appealed to his friend as he led the way back to the car. "Aubrey, you must understand. I'm afraid ..." he stopped and amended truthfully, "I am certain, Adam has raised a hand to Sam already. And, I'm afraid he will likely do worse." He left the statement as it was. Editorializing was not going to further his cause. Besides, he could read the conviction in the elder man's eyes. He too would do anything within his ability to keep Sam and her daughter safe. Foyle stepped the remaining distance to the boot and retrieved Sam's bag, the pram, and Christina's bag of essentials. Expanding the pram and tucking the three bags into it, he rolled the items over to where the vicar stood.
Aubrey put his hand out, and as Christopher grasped it, he gently shook the younger man's hand as a reinforcement of his words, "I will tell no one they are here. And I will endeavor to keep them confined to the grounds."
Foyle held the older man's gaze, "Thank you! I knew Sam and I could count on your understanding and support."
"Always, my dear Christopher, always."
Foyle stole a quick glimpse at bedroom window overhead. Deciding in an instant he wouldn't be able to leave if Sam was present, he hastened to conclude, "I'm not sure how soon I'll return. Tell Sam I won't come back unless I am certain it will be safe for her. I'll phone soon." He moved quickly to his car and forced himself not to look into any of the mirrors until he was sure he couldn't possibly catch sight of Sam.