Page 118 of Sing it, Sam

I can’t help but beam with pride. “Well, today’s a pretty big deal around here. They should rename it Pumpkinville for this one day of the year.”

Slowly, a smile teases at Ben’s lips. “You love it here, huh?”

I laugh. “That’s an understatement.”

I send Kathleen a text to let her know we aren’t far away.

The squeak of a wheel draws both our eyes in the direction of the hallway. Sam emerges in a white button-down collared shirt, his sleeves rolled up to reveal his lower arms. Although his skin is paler than his brother’s, I swear good forearms run in the family. Mustard khaki pants sit low on his hips, atop a pair of brown shoes with the laces in disarray.

I walk over to him and peck him on the cheek. “You look yummy,” I whisper.

“Exactly what I was aiming for,” Sam says. He turns the walker around and sits on the padded seat.

“Here, let me.” I bend down and tie Sam’s laces.

“Great view I’ve got from here,” Sam teases. I look up and catch him gawking at my boobs.

“How did physio go?” I ask, changing the subject.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam says, and stares at his open palms. He flexes his fingers out and back into fists, grimacing. “My hands, they’re—”

“You guys ready to hit the road?” Ben calls out in a gruff voice. I look around Sam. His brother’s waiting at the front door, gripping the handle.

Sam huffs and closes his eyes for a beat.

I tie the laces on the other shoe. “Think so,” I say, and help Sam to his feet. He grips the walker and moves forward.

“What were you saying?” I ask as we approach the door. Was it something about his hands?

“Never mind. Let’s get going.” Sam plants a loud kiss on my temple as we move out onto the porch. “So, what’s the plan of attack, Janie?”

I reach back and pull the door shut. “Well, for starters, we eat, check out the scarecrow judging, then we look at the pretty pumpkins.”

Sam’s chuckles interrupt my train of thought.

“Shush, let me finish. Then we eat some more, watch the pumpkin-rolling competition, andthen…” I bite down on my lip.

“Then what?” Sam says as Ben helps him down the steps.

“Then, Sam, at dusk, we dance.”

“Can’t wait,” he says as we approach the car. “Wore me dancing shoes specially,” he says with a twang in his voice.

I help Sam into the back seat and slide in beside him, flattening my dress beneath me.

As the car travels down the road, Sam reaches over and grips my hand. I look across and catch him flinch. I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw, either.

I take in a large breath, savouring it, then lean in and peck his cheek. “So glad you’re here,” I whisper.

A beautiful smile stretches across his face. “Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.”

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