The Thing About Samuel

Chapter Forty-Three - Samuel

Samuel - July 2019

'Billy, what is it?'
​As Sam made his way down the winding roads of his local village towards the churchyard, Billy's giggling could be heard through the phone as he pressed it against his ear.
​'Mum and Dad! They're finally getting married... next month!'
​'What?' Sam laughed.
​'Yes! And I'm a best man for my dad!'
​'That's crazy!'
​'I know, I know! I'm already working on my speech, so you can come help me as you're better at words than me!'
​Sam smirked. That was true. It was something Sam was confident he had inherited from his mum. He touched his other hand to his pocket, where his mum's notebook perched safely like a baby kangaroo in its mother's pouch.
​'Sure.'
​'Thanks Sam! Want to come over now?' Billy asked.
​Sam paused as he reached the stonewalled entrance to the church grounds and looked to the grand, wooden church doors. And before them, just off to the left, the plot where he knew his mum was buried.
​'Sure. I just have something I need to do first. Okay?'
​'Yes! Thanks, Sam. See you soon.'
​'Will do. Bye.'
​Sam breathed in, tucked the phone into his pocket, and proceeded down the church path. It was a bright day, and there was something oddly serene about the church grounds. It was as if the sound of the road beyond knew to stay silent once it reached the outlining walls offering peace and quiet to anyone who sat to pay their respects within the grounds.
​Eventually, the headstone came into sight, and he took a seat at the foot of his mum's grave. He crossed his legs and shuddered slightly as the chilled stone ground pressed against his bottom.
​He looked around. It was only him right now. He sniffled.
Stay strong, Sam.
​'Hi, Mum.' A smile trembled its way across his lips, and then he laughed at himself. 'Why am I getting upset? It's the first time you've seen me since the camping trip! I should be excited to tell you about it.'
​A small breeze ran past, and Sam noticed it brushing against his cheeks; as his mum's hand had often done when anything had scared or upset him many years ago.
​'I got your letter. Well, I found your letter to Dad.' Sam took another breath in, and then observed his mum's headstone. It had been well preserved, only a few areas where the weather had taken its toll on the stone. But the words were still clear. Sam had chosen those.
​Sam reached into his coat and pulled out the notebook. Flicking through its pages, he quickly found himself back at the torn pages.
​'I know your secret. And it's okay, Jase. Honestly.' Sam's eyes glanced up to the headstone, half-expecting to see his mum's face nodding acceptingly and encouraging him to carry on. 'I don't regret anything we did, or anything that happened. You and Samuel are the best thing to ever come into my life. We were young, and we were still figuring ourselves out. I know that you loved him. And I know you will continue to, along with Samuel. But this letter is for the future you.'
​A single grey splodge appeared on the page in front of him. Sam wiped his eyes, coughed and carried on a little further.
​'Our little family will always exist in you and Samuel, and the love between us three will never change. I will always be here to listen, whatever your head or heart needs to speak about, moan about, or figure out. I am always here. But, Jase, whatever you do next. Don't let me hold you back. I am at peace, and I will forever watch over you both. When the time is right, and the time will come, and you meet someone else or you choose to reconnect with the past, know that it is okay. I love you, always have, always will. Our story will always exist, but you can write your own future now. Look after Samuel. Come and tell me everything he does. I loved you since that first day in the writing shed and will continue to watch your story from here on out. Love you both, more than a satisfying story arc and a rhubarb tea. Look after each other. Enjoy your next chapter. I'll be reading. Yours Always, Annabelle.'
​Sam sniffled again.
​'I know it's for Dad, Mum. But you knew. You always knew. And I wish I could tell you my secret, too.' He looked up, tears streaming from his bright eyes and pattering onto the page in his hands. 'I miss you, Mum.'
​Sam's breaths shuddered into his body and came out in silent wails. His heart ached, his body fell limp, and he hung his head forward, resting on the palms of his hands as he tried to hold the tears in. Suddenly, he felt the gentle comfort of a hand against the top of his back and felt the presence of someone lowering to the floor beside him. An arm found its way over his shoulders and pulled him into a chest clad in a thick, warm, dry coat.
​'It's okay, Sam. It's okay.'
​Sam struggled for a second to place the voice, and then steadily sat back up, wiped his nose and eyes on his arms, and then moved his hair from his face. Looking up, he met kind eyes and a smile.
​'You okay?' The man asked.
​'Ryan, what are you doing here?'
​'I...' He straightened up and looked at the headstone that read Annabelle Knight. 'I don't really know. I guess, after seeing you and your dad, I felt I'd been away a little longer than I should have.'
​Sam nodded. 'Right...'
​'What's that you've got there? Do you write letters to your mum?'
​'No. It's nothing.' Sam quickly folded up the letter and clasped the notebook shut around it.
​'Okay. Well, if you did write letters to her, that's a good idea. Sometimes it's hard to remember what you came here to say, isn't it?'
​Sam nodded, again. 'I just like to come and sit here and pretend she can hear me.'
​'She can hear you, Sam. Promise.'
​'I wish she could reply. Just to let me know if I'm doing the right thing or help me figure some things out.'
​Ryan let a small laugh out. 'Yeah, we could all use that. In a way, she does.'
​'She does?'
​'Of course!' Ryan turned to face Sam. 'Remember, your mum taught you everything you know! And, the best thing about your mum is that she was always writing! That's her voice, just written down. So, anything she wrote, she was saying, in a way. Whether it was meant to be read there and then, or years in the future. They are still your mum's words.'
​Sam's heart lifted. Ryan was right.
​'That does make sense.'
​Ryan rubbed his hand against Sam's back, and Sam was surprised at how comforting it was. He suddenly felt like family.
​'Thanks, Ryan. Uncle Ryan?' he questioned.
​Ryan laughed. 'Ah, your dad told you, then?'
Sam shook his head. 'We're not talking right now.' He tried to stop his eyes flickering to Ryan. This wasn't his fault. 'My grandma told me.'
'Ah,' Ryan smiled. 'Well, Ryan is fine, Uncle makes me sound so old.'
​They giggled.
​'Look, did you want me to leave you with your mum for a bit? I can always come back a bit later?'
​'No, it's fine, actually. I have to go and see Billy.' A sudden thought flashed across Sam's mind. 'How long will you be staying around?' Sam asked.
​Ryan looked puzzled but then shrugged. 'The hotel will be fine without me for a few weeks at least, probably. Why?'
​Sam smiled. 'No reason. It's nice to chat, Ryan. I hope you and Mum have a good chat.'
​'Thanks, Sam. And I'm sure you and your dad will sort things out. Family always do.'
​Sam nodded, turned and walked down the church path away from Ryan and his mum's grave. 'That's her voice, just written down.' A satisfying warmth ran through Sam's body, and he smiled. A genuine smile. And it gave him an idea that he was sure Billy would love. After all, he loved a plan!