Chapter 6
Confession
Arielle Nygard
Idoze off under a silky cloud of absolute bliss. I feel whole, complete, totally at peace. When I wake, Sam is staring at me, his rich brown eyes roving over my face, as if memorizing my features. He smiles as I open my eyes and lowers his face to plant a soft kiss on my lips.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?” he murmurs.
“No,” I say and pull his head down for another kiss. It’s long and slow, filled with tenderness. I let out a long sigh. “I’ve missed this sort of intimacy. It’s been so long.”
“Haven’t you been with anyone since your husband?”
“No. You’re the first.” I cup his face with my hand, feeling his strong jaw clench under my touch.
“Arielle, I’m sorry. If I’d known... I wouldn’t have... Are you okay?”
“Honestly, I do feel a bit guilty, like I’m cheating on Steve. But I wanted this, wanted you. It’s time for me to move on.”
“I wish I’d known. I would have made it special.”
“It was perfect, Sam. I didn’t need anything else. You took care of Austin, treated him like your own child. And then you took care of me. It’s been so long since someone made me feel safe and protected.” He kisses me, and runs a hand over my shoulder, grazing my breast and settling it on my hip. There’s a small spark of desire, but I’m still reveling in our first coupling.
“I’ve been thinking,” I say when the kiss breaks off. “Maybe stealing to give money to the poor isn’t that bad.” His smile is so bright that I almost want to shade my eyes.
“Really? If it eases your mind, my ‘Robin Hood’ days are pretty much over.”
It does ease my mind, but I’m curious about his motivation. “Why?” I ask simply.
Sam lies back on the bed and pulls me closer. “When I found out about the guy in the Ukraine who died because I sold him the gems, I was really rattled. It’s lucky that I could get away so quickly. I don’t doubt that Oleg’s people would have found me before long.”
“Why are poor and homeless people so important to you?” I feel him tense at my question and rush to clarify. “Not that they shouldn’t be important, but why do you risk your life for them?”
“Because it’s not their fault. And because a little kindness goes a long way. The dollar that someone stuffs into a pocket and forgets about could mean the difference between a beggar eating something and going to sleep hungry.” He takes a deep breath. “And because I was one of them, a long time ago.”
I’m stunned into silence by this revelation. I can’t imagine Sam being homeless. I want to know more, but something holds my tongue. Sam breaks the silence, and my heart, with his story.
“When I was nine, my mom took off with a guy who didn’t want me around. She dropped me outside a police station and told me to go inside, to tell a police officer that I needed a home. But I was scared, so I didn’t go in. I wanted to follow her taxi, but I lost sight of it after only a few seconds, so I just started walking.” His voice is hoarse with pent-up emotions. “I had nowhere to go, no one who would look after me. And no one cared. I begged on the streets for a couple of days, just trying to get enough money for food, but people wouldn’t even look at me.”
My eyes fill with tears and I don’t try to stop them from falling. I can’t imagine just dropping my child off somewhere without a second thought. Leaving a little boy to fend for himself like that is unthinkable.
Tears glisten in Sam’s eyes, but he continues his tale. “Then one day I saw this scrawny little kitten. He needed someone to take care of him and I couldn’t bear the thought of another living thing being tossed away. So I followed him. It felt like I chased him for miles – I guess I was weak with hunger. Anyhow, the kitten suddenly dashed up a driveway and into an open garage door. I didn’t think, I just followed him. I was scared someone would hurt him if they found him.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Eventually, I can’t stand the anticipation. “Well, what happened? You can’t stop now.” I raise myself up onto an elbow and look at him. “Did you find the kitten? Did someone try to hurt him?”
“Sorry. I haven’t thought about that day in so long.” He smiles nostalgically as I settle back down to hear the rest of the story. “There’s not much more to tell. The owner of the house took us both in. Atticus – that was his name – got us both cleaned and fed. He treated me like his son, although we told everyone that he was my grandfather. He taught me magic and gave me a good, loving home for nine years before he died.”
I put two and two together. “The old man in the photographs. That’s Atticus, isn’t it?”
“Yip, that’s Atticus Goodwin.”
“And the kitten?”
“Is now a very old man and sleeping downstairs with Austin.”
“Wow,” is all I can say.
