Page 97 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Thirty-Four

As I apply a coat of cherry lip gloss, Kathleen finally arrives at reception. Because, guess what? Today, of all days, Sally-Anne hasn’t showed up.

“Sorry, I’ve made you late for your lunch,” she apologies.

“It’s okay. No problems,” I say and hook my bag over my shoulder.

“Sally-Anne might be in later. Car troubles, apparently.” Kathleen’s lips form a tight line.

I think we both know it’s just another excuse. Besides that, she only lives about a fifteen-minute walk from here.

After grabbing two containers from the fridge, filled with cold Vietnamese noodle salads I made Sam and I for lunch, I stuff them in my bag with some plastic forks and power-walk to his room.

“Sorry, I couldn’t leave reception …” I trail off as I enter the almost vacant space. The bed is stripped bare. The boxes by the door are now gone.

Has he left early?

My heart booms in protest.

No, he wouldn’t do that.

A package wrapped in brown paper on the bedside table catches my eye.Janieis written in messy black writing in the centre of it.

I rip at the paper. A small white piece of card drops out.

Janie,

You’re my hero

Sam x

I pull a square object from within and gasp. In a white wooden photo frame is the selfie I took of the two of us on Superhero Day. Sam’s face is pale. Dark rings hang beneath his eyes, but his smile is priceless.

The walker isn’t anywhere to be seen. Heat crawls up my throat and I grit my teeth. Has he left without saying goodbye?Surely not.

I tuck the frame in my bag and dash from the room. “You playing hard to get again, Marshall?” I curse as I wander down the corridor.

Music starts playing from the dining hall. It’s acoustic and mellow and sounds like someone is warming up to play. I follow the sounds of music into the dining room and am met with a full house. Chairs are assembled in a much more orderly fashion than normal. Nearly every seat is occupied.

Oh my god, is everyone here? It is so rare that happens. It’s like herding cats with the residents here sometimes. To get them all in one place is no small feat.

Paige waves at me from the large windows which frame the mountains. Smiling wide, she juts her chin towards the opposite side of the room. I shift my attention in that direction. An older guy with wavy brown hair that’s greyed above the ears is sitting on a chair with a shiny wooden guitar.Is that the guy from the fundraiser?He strums the instrument, twisting the small knobs at the end, tuning it as if he’s done it a million times before.Who organised this?

A walker moves into view in the doorway behind the guitarist. Wearing blue jeans and a black button-up shirt rolled up to his elbows, Sam makes his entrance. His blond hair is slicked back. The determination on his face is admirable as he makes his way over to the chair beside the guitarist. He makes walking look easy, but the strain in his forearms and hands tells a different story. When he takes his seat, his chest is labouring. The man with the guitar hands Sam a microphone.

“Oh, lookie here. Janie’s finally decided to show up, everybody,” Sam teases and waves in my direction. He lowers the microphone from his mouth and winks.

That cheeky bugger. Is this why he was telling me not to go to too much trouble? Because he had his own plans?

Like a Mexican wave at a sports arena, except at an almost glacial pace, the sea of residents turn in their chairs to gawk at me. They politely start clapping. As I walk deeper into the crowd, closer to Sam, my cheeks flame. I might just combust from the sudden onset of heat.

When my feet stop short a metre away from Sam, I hold my hands out to the sides. “What are you doing?”

He shrugs and then covers the microphone with his other hand. “Livin’ the dream,” he says.

A laughter and a sob rolled into one bursts from my mouth. He’s really doing this. He’s going to sing, here, in front of all these people. God, he looks incredible with a microphone with in his hand. Even though Sam is sitting, confidence exudes from him, and the determination in his eyes demands attention.

Kathleen appears beside me. “Sorry, Sally-Anne and I had to keep you busy this morning. Wasn’t easy trying to organise everyone.”

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