Drawn to Life (20 page)

Chapter 50

Samuel—Not Alone

London, July 2012

A strong wind was blowing. I flipped up the hood on my sweatshirt, then zipped the front all the way up until my face was nearly hidden. Other than the sound of the wind, all was quiet. Only a few people walked past me, going where I was not yet ready to go. Mia was right. The farther north we’d traveled, the more I’d struggled with myself and whether or not I should visit here. Because now what good did it do? She couldn’t hear me. She couldn’t forgive me. She was dead. My mom was dead, goddamn it.

She’d written that she didn’t want me to feel guilty, but hell, how could I not? She wasn’t responsible for the divorce, like my father had had me believe for all those years. He’d never told me the truth, although I had asked him about the divorce so many times. It must have been his plan, to keep me for himself and for his company. I hated him even more for that.

And what had I done, out of sheer despair? I’d run away from Mia. Then again, I wanted to do this alone. At least that’s what I told myself. That’s why I’d had to write Mia the note. I hoped she understood. So now I was sitting on this bench near the entrance to the cemetery, alone, and I wasn’t strong enough to go inside by myself. Mia had been the toughest one all along. I admired her for how she’d climbed out of the deep hole she’d been in. How she had fought, day after day. How she had begun to live again.

After that night in Paris, once she’d said those three words in her sleep, it had been harder to decide what I should do. I wasn’t sure I had faith she’d meant them, but still . . . there must be some truth there. I’d lain awake all night and watched her. She’d slept so peacefully in my arms, and I knew she’d felt sheltered. In the morning, I’d kissed her forehead, grabbed my stuff, and just . . . left.

I’d had a knee-jerk reaction. I should never have gone . . . not like that. I hadn’t even given her my phone number. I was a coward. And now afraid she’d choo
se the same path my mother had. While she was strong and healthy now, she’d only just recovered, and her past had been more than difficult. What if that past caught up with her? Could I return to her, be strong enough to provide support for her again? I was a jerk, like her ex-boyfriend. I disappeared the moment things had gotten tough. I’d likely never see her again. I’d messed the whole thing up. And I’d never meet anyone like Mia again.

I dropped my head back against the stone wall behind me, as if I could knock some sense into myself. Raindrops splattered my face, dripped into my eyes, and ran down my cheeks, like tears. If I waited any longer, I again wouldn’t make it to my mother’s graveside. Yesterday, I’d not managed to get even this far, and today, I’d spent the entire day just sitting here on this bench, like a douche bag. I closed my eyes to sort out my thoughts.

“You should go inside.”

I looked up when I heard the sweet sound of her voice.

She was wearing her hat again. “How long have you been sitting here?”

My heart pounded. I was thrilled to see her. I’d been so stupid to exclude her. I should have known I was not the strong one of the two of us. Mia was and always had been. She knew how this felt, knew how I felt. If anybody could support me in this situation, it was her.

I shrugged, wanting to play it cool. “A while.”

Mia sat down beside me, holding her backpack against her. We both stared straight ahead.

“How did you find me?”

“You’d mentioned where she lived. With your letter, it wasn’t too difficult to put two and two together.” She sounded hurt.

I turned to her, but she continued to keep her gaze forward. “Mia . . .” I let out a deep sigh. “Look, I, uh . . .” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Hell, I am so sorry I left the way I did. But I thought . . . Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking. I just ran.”

Finally, she turned her head to look at me. “It’s OK. I get it. In certain situations, people want to be alone.” She set her backpack on the ground and took my hand. “You aren’t the only one who thinks running away is the best solution. But I’ve come to realize that life’s not as bad when we have someone on our side. The support may not solve whatever the problems are, but it makes everything easier to bear.”

I intertwined our fingers. “Are you mad at me?”

She glanced at our hands, then looked away again. She sighed softly. “Am I angry?”

I nodded.

“I don’t know. Yes. No. Maybe . . .” She looked at the ground and murmured, “I probably would have done the same thing.”

The silence between us was uncomfortable. Neither of us dared to look into the other’s eyes. I’d screwed up. I knew it. And yet, here she was. Mia wanted to be here for me.

“Samuel,” Mia finally broke the silence. “I’m not angry.” She returned her gaze to mine. “I am disappointed. Really disappointed. I thought you’d figured out things don’t work so well when you’re alone. But no, I’m not angry. You’ve done so much for me.”

“How?”

“By just being with me. By letting me be myself. By not mentioning my illness.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. “And this,” she whispered, leaning toward me. For a fleeting moment, her lips touched mine. “You’ve shown me how to live. You’ve made sure I didn’t forget to breathe. That I didn’t forget to find happiness in each moment.” Then she murmured so softly that I almost didn’t hear it, “You’ve shown me how to love.”

I didn’t know what to say, so instead I gave her a gentle kiss.

“Thank you,” I whispered against her lips. “Thank you for being here for me.”

A wary smile hovered around her lips.

Mia stood, shrugged her backpack over her shoulder, then looked at me with her big eyes, now glistening with tears. She reached out her hand. “Come on. There’s someone you need to visit, I’ll bet. Because I’m guessing you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“Only since eight.”

“Samuel, that was nine hours ago.”

Mia was right. I had to gather my courage and say good-bye to my mother. I nodded and rose. We walked into the cemetery. I’d researched online where she was buried so knew right where to go.

Her grave still looked new, marked only by a pile of recently dug earth. No flowers, no tombstone. Nobody appeared to be tending it, even though it had been a month since the funeral. I just stood there. My mother was gone; she would never come back. I would never be able to speak to her again. Never again . . .

I sank down to the cold ground. I felt a small hand squeezing my shoulder. Mia. Tears filled my eyes.

“It is OK to admit your feelings,” she leaned down to whisper in my ear. When I heard her words, I couldn’t hold back my emotion any longer.

“I am so sorry, Mom. I am so, so sorry . . .” I whispered over and over again.

“What happened to her?”

Mia’s question caught me off guard. I didn’t look at her when I answered, “She was ill . . . terminal cancer. She wrote me that the doctors had given her six months. But she didn’t want to go on . . . Not the way her life had been. Without her second husband, without my father.” I sighed and added, “Without me.”

Mia knelt and held me tight. “Don’t blame yourself. That was her decision.” She sighed. “Hers. Sooner or later . . .” She paused. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered close to my ear. “You understand?” She wasn’t talking about only my mother. I sensed there was more behind what she was saying.

“Mia, you . . . ?”

She shook her head. “No . . .” She inhaled deeply. “Not me.” She couldn’t continue. She was crying in earnest now. She hid her face against my chest and murmured, “Samuel, please take me home.”

Chapter 51

Mia—At Home

Graz, July 2012

The moment at the grave and seeing Samuel’s pain forced me to reconsider the decisions I’d made. I had been, in fact, running away, and it’d been the wrong way to handle things. Hurting anybody hadn’t been my intention, but I’d ended up hurting everyone. I didn’t want to run anymore. It was time I faced my family.

I felt very uncomfortable at even the thought of returning home. I’d been out of touch with my parents and sister for more than three weeks, almost four—and then, of course, I’d also ignored their calls.

Once I could see my parents’ house, I asked the cab driver to let me and Samuel out. I didn’t want my family to see me right away. I wanted to walk those last yards to their home. I needed time to breathe, to focus.

“Samuel?” There were only a few steps left before we reached the door.

“You can do it, Mia. You’re strong. No matter what you’re hiding, your family will forgive you.” He gave me his sweet smile, the first I’d seen on him in twenty-four hours.

During the last day of our return, on the train, he’d seemed always on alert, watching me constantly. There was fear in his face. I’m sure he was afraid that my panic-induced blackouts would return. By now, though, I had them under control. I’d been feeling much better ever since I’d opened up to him.

Now I tried to flash a smile. “Can you do me a favor?” I asked.

“Anything. You were there for me, too. Remember?” He reached for my hand, pulled me toward him, and kissed my forehead.

“Will you stay with me?”

He nodded.

“I mean, no matter what happens here, please, please, don’t abandon me. No matter what I say, what they say, please stand by me.” I took a ragged breath. “Promise?”

Samuel lifted my chin with his thumb and index finger. “Sweetie, I will always be here for you. I left you in Paris. But that’ll be the last time. From now on, I will always be here for you.
Always
. . .” Almost inaudibly, he added, “I’ve already let down someone else.” He frowned, and I knew he was thinking of his mother. “We are so closely linked, you and me. I don’t want to miss out on anything else with you.” His soft lips again touched mine. He whispered, “I live through you. Don’t forget that.”

I just nodded. My heart was racing as I stood in front of my family’s old brown wooden door. How many times had I walked through this same door, in an earlier life without problems, without fear? And now here I was—a nervous wreck. Hands wet with sweat. About to suffer a panic attack after all, because I had no idea what awaited me inside.

“Breathe, Mia. Live, Mia,” Samuel encouraged me and gave me a kiss. I tightened my grip on his hand. “I am right here with you,” he said.

My other hand trembled.

With a lot of effort, I managed to insert my key into the lock and open the door. We entered. At first the house seemed deathly silent. The only things I could hear were the sounds of my heart beating in my ears and the huff of my breath. Slowly, I distinguished others. Someone was emptying the dishwasher. Music drifted down the stairs.

I led Samuel into the kitchen. Her back to us, Mother was putting a plate into the cupboard. She hadn’t noticed us yet. I stopped in the doorway.

“Mom,” I interrupted the quiet. The plate she’d been holding dropped from her hand and shattered on the floor. She whipped around, grabbing the edge of the countertop.

“Oh my god, Mia.” Recovering, she hurried over and hugged me with all her might, but my hand still clung to Samuel’s. “You’re OK!” she sobbed and cupped my face with both hands. “Are you OK?”

I’d missed her so much. My sunshine. Tears shot into my eyes. I had a huge lump in my throat and couldn’t say a word. I could only nod.

“That’s good,” she said and hugged me close again. “I worried so much about you,” she whispered. My blouse was dampened by her tears. And mine.

“I’m here, Mom. I’m OK, Mom.” I soothed her, embracing her with one arm and leaning my head against hers. I didn’t want to let go. I wanted her to know that I was back for real. That I loved her. That I was sorry. Hoping she could sense my emotions, I held her as tight and as long as I could.

Several minutes passed, then her head jerked up. She looked at me in bewilderment. “You . . . How come you let me hug you for so long? And you’re even hugging me back?
How come?
”

I smiled and released her. “Mom, this is Samuel. He’s the reason why.” Only then did she seem to notice him.

She stretched out her hand. “Irene. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. . . . ?”

“Winter. Very nice to meet you, too. Please call me Samuel.”

She smiled, then went to call my father and my sister, who were overjoyed and emotional, too. Eventually, after the noise of our reunion subsided and after Mom made coffee, we all sat down in the living room.

“Don’t you want to introduce your companion?” The way Anna grinned at Samuel was a little too flirty for my taste. I already knew his impact on women, but my little sister didn’t need to undress him with her eyes.

I kicked her shin. “Anna,” I hissed.

She leaned close to me and whispered, “You’ve seen him, right? You’re sitting next to the hottest guy ever. Oh my god, those eyes. If you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

I was pretty sure Samuel could hear my sister because I felt his body shake as he apparently tried to suppress his laughter. But she was right—and not just about how he looked—I’d formally introduced him only to my mother. Besides, I owed all of them a fuller explanation. I took Samuel’s hand. “This is Samuel Winter. He is . . .” I looked at him.

“I’m her boyfriend.” He squeezed my hand. Relieved, I smiled. Yes, he was my boyfriend.

Anna seemed disappointed but then gave me a grin.

“We met on the first train I took, the train to Budapest, and ran into each other again when we were both headed to Rome. He’s rescued me more than once from panic attacks. He gave me space when I needed it. He cheered me up when I needed it. Made me feel again. Made me believe again that it’s normal to hold and touch another human being.” While I said this, I looked into his eyes. A brief silence followed after I finished.

My father cleared his throat. “I’m very glad to see you so happy, Mia. But we’ve been very worried.”

I looked at the floor and began biting my lip.

“We didn’t know what was going on. Why didn’t you call?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” I lied.

“Please, don’t ever do this again,” my mother implored. “Promise, Mia.”

“I promise,” I whispered.