Page 49 of The Baker & Her Billionaire

I hung up.

What to do? What to do? She was … scared? Depressed? Angry? I needed to talk to her. But I didn’t want to be rebuffed, either!

Grrr! Phoned her again. This time I’d leave a message.

“Samantha, my darling? Davie told me you’re hurting. Call me. I got you. Let me in, beautiful. We can solve any problem together.”

I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t know enough about what was really bothering her.

I looked at the time. Dad’s shift was over. He’d be home. I called him. He put it on speaker so Mom could chat, too.

“Hey, son of mine! How are things in the world of innovation?”

“Not good, Mom. I mean, business is great. But something’s wrong with Samantha and she’s not talking to me or her brother. I don’t know how to help her if she isolates. And that’s what she’s doing.”

My parents asked about her recovery and how much she could move around. I updated them.

“I’m just … torn. She’s hurting. I care about her. I have to do something. But I don’t want her to think I’m stalking her. That’d be too ironic.”

Dad piped up, “Son, your mom was hospitalized for over a week when you kids were still little. Remember?”

I didn’t.

“She wasn’t really able to talk or move much or anything. I was desperate to comfort her. So, I went old school.”

Huh? “What do you mean, Dad?”

“I wrote her love letters on fancy paper, and tucked them in her hand when I went to see her.”

Mom chimed in, “I couldn’t even open the envelopes, so I had a nurse do it every day. The nurse cried when she read the letters to me. I still …”

Dad, “Have them? Hon?”

“Oh, of course, silly. They’re fromyou.How could I throw them away? I kept all of the ones you wrote while I was back home recovering, too.”

My parents. Lovebirds. The real deal. I wanted some of that.

I butted into the love fest, “So, Dad, what are you saying?”

“Send her some love letters. Today everyone is digital. Text her. Email her. Leave her voice mail. Love travels, kiddo.”

Lights went on in my head. “Got it, Dad! Thanks! Gotta go! Got love letters to write!”

I knew just what to do.

One hour later, I’d sent a text message with an attachment to Samantha.

Two hours later, no response from her. None for the rest of the afternoon.

So before I turned in, I crafted another similar message with another attachment. Hit Send.

No response.

It didn’t matter. I’d keep doing it.

Till she got the message my heart was aching for her to hear.

Samantha

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