Page 69 of Samuel's Heart

I should thank John for bringing Samuel into my life, but wouldn’t that be insensitive of me? However, if it wasn’t for my need to find John, I wouldn’t have had the chance to meet Samuel.

The door of the house we are watching opens, and a young man of around thirty saunters out, his smile as big as the house itself. He is a better version of the man we saw in the pictures. His skin is a healthy colour, his eyes are no longer sunken in.

And it’s all thanks to John.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I don’t fight them. They’re a mix of pain and pride.

Sam kisses the top of my head again and then pulls away. He hands me a tissue and I use it to wipe my eyes and nose.

“Let’s go,” he says when I’m done. Then he gets out of the car.

I watch him in case he needs help, but his hip isn’t giving him grief today, and I’m glad. Maybe one day he’ll be able to walk without a limp, do the things he used to do, and maybe even go back to work.

Then we wander around, following the man. We walk close together, our arms brushing against each other. I wish I could take his hand to gain strength from his touch.

The man seems to know everyone, and probably does, as we are in another small village in the north of England. We pretend to stop and look at buildings or shops while we follow him around. This is the first time since Samuel agreed to help me find John that I feel like a stalker.

This time I really want to talk with this person. The person who received John’s heart. I look at him, searching and hoping for a glimpse of John. I must be going mad.

His name is Matthew. He doesn’t look like John, but some of his mannerisms remind me of him. He used to laugh so much, and his smile was ever-present on his face. Even when I was at my worst, he could always lift me up with his smiles. Matthew has the same smile—contagious, uplifting, and kind. It pushes me to want to know more about him.

When he heads to the park, my hope of talking to him grows exponentially. If he sits somewhere, I’ll have the chance to approach him and hopefully lead the conversation to where I want it to go. I know that my behaviour is incorrect, and that I shouldn’t be here doing this, but at the same time, knowing the people John helped makes his loss a little less painful, and makes his death a little more bearable.

Whitby is one of the historical places in the north of England, so I’ll be able to coax him to talk while pretending to be a tourist.

As soon as he sits down, I grab Samuel’s hand to make him go faster. It’s now or never. I stop when he resists my pull and I turn around to see his surprise. He knows how important today is for me.

“You promised to respect the rules,” he says.

I look at him, surprised, and open my mouth to say something, but he places a finger on my lips.

“Let me do it for you.”

Oh, my God.I love him.I stop, because it’s too soon, but yeah . . .Idolove him. He’s given me more than I was expecting, without even having to ask. I want to kiss him so badly, but we’rein the middle of the park, and we already have eyes on us. I’m only able to nod, because if I open my mouth, I’ll tell him about my recent discovery. I’ll tell him I love him.

He removes his fingers, but not before I press a kiss on them.

He walks over to the man and begins talking to him. I don’t hear what he’s saying, because I’m too focused on how beautiful Sam looks talking to him. How his smile is not as sad as it was before. And how his features have somehow taken a gentler note that suits him better than that dark cloud he always had hovering over him.

“Ro?”

I focus on the situation when he calls me to join them.

“Matthew here was telling me that there are a lot of different things to see. Some that are not publicised as much as the usual sites.”

“Yeah?” I mumble, looking at the man who’s here only because of John’s heart.

“Yes, so many lovely places,” Matthew says, and smiles, and somehow, his smile reminds me of John.

Reminds me of his beautiful face looking down at me, caressing my hair, while I was lying over his legs on the sofa. The memories are so vivid. I can smell his aftershave, and his hands on me are real. My eyes water, but I smile back.

“Hi, I’m Rory,” I say, while stretching out my hand to shake Matthew’s.

He looks at me, and then, with a smile, he takes it. “Matthew,” he says, and another smile curves his lips.

“Are you from around here?”

“Yes, I was born and bred here. I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else. Not now that I have the chance to enjoy this place as much as I want.”

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