Page 29 of Samuel's Heart

“We’re in sales.” Samuel once again replies for the both of us. I’m grateful for it, but at the same time, I’m a little wary that he can lie so easily to everyone. I know I have issues with lies; I can’t even tell any, so I shouldn’t be judging him—especially because he’s lying for me. And yet . . .

“Any good places we could stop to eat?” Samuel asks. I’m like a doll right now. My head is empty, like I don’t have a brain.

“You two are in luck,” he says, smiling widely. “I run a place, and I’d be happy to have you for breakfast or lunch. Brunch?” Ian laughs again as if he’s joking.

It can’t be real. How can I be that lucky? I get to spend some time with this guy, and with John.

When Samuel hesitates, I jump in.

“We’d be happy to.” I don’t look at Samuel, because his gaze is back to being as heavy as a stone. But I can’t let this chance go and miss knowing more.

“Follow me. It’s just a five-minute walk from here.” And then Ian turns around and waves at his friend. “Fred, I’m going. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He waits for the other man to say goodbye and then we’re on our way to his place.

I look everywhere but at Samuel. He must be upset that not only did we have to talk to the guy, but now we’re going to spend time with him. I can’t stop noticing, though, that he’s falling behind. I remember he’s injured, and that he probably shouldn’t be walking at all.

“I’m Rory,” I say to Ian, hoping he’ll walk slower so Samuel can catch a breath. I’m glad when it works, and he turns around to walk by my side. I slow my pace and he does as well.

Once again, Samuel’s gaze changes and it’s back to feeling like a caress, so I take it as a thank you.

“I’m Ian,” he says.

“This is Samuel,” I say. Ian stops, giving Samuel a chance to rest a bit.

“Hey, there,” he says, and seems so calm and collected. But when I glance at his face, not only is his strain visible, but I also notice how wet his skin looks.

Ian, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to notice anything, and I wonder if I’m spending so much time with Samuel that it’s becoming easier and easier to read him a bit better every day.

Am I getting too close to him? Am I betraying John?

I’m pulled away from those thoughts by Samuel’s hand resting on my back. I move away, because the thrill the touch sends down my spine is too much to bear, and it feels like another betrayal to John’s memory.

I glance at him when the silence is too much to bear, but his face is unreadable, and guilt fills me, even if I don’t know why.

“I’m starving,” Samuel says, to break the silence and the awkward glances Ian is giving us.

“Let’s go, then,” Ian says with a happy smile.

“How long have you had this place of yours?” Samuel asks Ian, while I stay back, trying to sort my tangled thoughts.

“It’s always been a dream of mine, but it’s a recent thing. I wasn’t really well before, so I wouldn’t have managed a place like this. But nearly two years ago I was blessed, and now I have what I’ve always dreamt of.”

His beaming face is a stab in my heart. Because, while it reminds me of my loss, it’s also a blessing to see what John’s death has brought to this man.

A new life.

I sense Samuel closer to me, but he doesn’t touch me this time. I’m glad, because if he does I’ll break, and then I’d have to explain why to Ian.

“Are you okay?” Samuel’s concerned voice washes over me.

I shake my head in a way only he can see, and reply, “Yes, I am.” I’m glad Ian doesn’t turn around and see me close to tears.

After a short walk, we reach Ian’s small café, and it’s something John would have loved. It looks like a place you couldspend time working or reading. A lazy place where people can simply enjoy and relax. There are wooden tables, plants, and flowers outside, making it look like a garden. Then the name of the shop comes into full view, and I nearly go down on my knees because it’s what John always called me, when it was just the two of us.

My Heart Café.

John’s nickname for me was ‘my heart.’ Could it be that he’s really here, in this man that’s nothing like John?

Samuel’s presence is like a rock, and I lean on him when his body heat tells me he’s close to me. He takes my weight, even if he’s injured. I shouldn’t rely on him so much, but right now, I’m not in this city, on this road, or even in the present—I’m in the past. John and I are sitting on the sofa, my head in his lap, and his hands are caressing my hair. His deep voice washes over me, and there’s a thump in my heart every time I hear him call me ‘my heart.’

---