Page 145 of Sing it, Sam

Chapter Fifty-One

It’s been a few weeks, and I haven’t yet been able to summon up the courage to go back to work. It’s not that I don’t want to. I miss everyone—it’s just the questions, and the sad faces, and the fact that I cry at the littlest thing holding me back. On the plus side, I’m on the home stretch with my novel,Sing it, Sam. This book has been my healing. My reason to get up in the morning. My tribute to my love. I’m hoping that once I’ve finished it I’ll be in a better headspace and can get my emotions in check.

As I bash out the last few chapters, I pray that in some way these words will guide me forward. With each page, I write what I think should form the conclusion of the story. I know not everyone will agree with the ending. For one, Janice’s determination rings true. No one is going to tell me how to write my story. My characters know how it’s supposed to wind-up, and that’s something I never thought I’d say.

One character who plays a significant part is the sheriff. Over the last few weeks, our friendship has grown. Ben was such an important part of Sam’s life, so my book would have a cavernous hole without him. I may have lost Sam, but I’ve gained a new friend. A friend who is thoughtful, considerate, funny and a pillar of strength. But I see his down days too, as much as he tries to hide them. He may never get over losing his brother. I can only hope that I can support him as much as he’s supported me.

I love Sam. That simple fact has not changed since his passing. Whilst I’d imagined us living together with our fur-babies, maybe even having kids one day, I can’t focus on what might’ve been. What I will do is put a spotlight on my time with Sam. He showed me how the simple things in life should never be taken for granted. To hold someone’s hand. To squeeze your loved one like a vice. To walk beside your partner.

Sam has shown me what it is to love. To look past the surface and truly love someone for who they are, and for what they hope and dream of. When people read my work, I want them to feel the same way that Sam made me feel.

Loved.Completely.

***

After reviewing my story until I can look at it no more, I send it to the Kindle addresses of everyone in the writers’ group. A moment after, I’m out the front of my house, securing my kayak in the back of my ute. Logan Falls, here I come.

I spend the afternoon kayaking down from the falls, trying not to obsess about how the girls might cut my story to pieces. Cool liquid drips onto my legs as I move the oar from side to side.

Please let them love it. I don’t think my heart could bear them shredding apart something so personal. This book is mine and Sam’s story, as beautiful and tragic as it is.

When I reach the part of the creek where I brought Sam that day, an eerie calm cloaks me. Fog rolls silently over the water and seeps through the trees. An image of us snuggled together on the picnic rug flashes before my eyes.

“I finished it, Sam,” I call out to the sheoaks as if Sam is right there and he’ll answer me with words of praise.I hope you’re proud of me.

With a slice of the oar, I guide the kayak into the spot where we swam. I stare at the ripples on the water and remember how Sam floated on his back like a starfish, how he smiled at the sky with such adoration in his eyes.

“Thank you, Sam,” I say to the apparition of a smiling Sam in the water. “For teaching me what love is.”

***

Within two days of sending my manuscript to the girls, each of them responded with a beautiful and supportive message. It’s hard to believe they all read it so fast.

We schedule an early get-together at the café on Thursday afternoon. I’m the last to arrive, as usual. A slab of Nutella cheesecake is sitting on a plate in front of the only empty chair at the table. I swear it’s twice the size of a normal slice.These girls …

“Sorry I’m late,” I say as I approach the table. All eyes are on me. Everyone stands up. Before I know it, I’m in the middle a giant group hug.

After a beat, I pull away. “Who do I have to thank for the cheesecake?” I look amongst the girls.

Hannah raises her hand as we all take our seats. “My pleasure. I just …” She lets out a deep breath through pursed lips. “I haven’t cried this much reading a book in the longest time. I’m not one to ugly cry, but withSing it, Sam, I was a mess.”

“Um, thank you?” I say, and shrug. I guess that means I managed to get the emotions across.

“Sam had me swooning all over the place,” Hannah continues. “It seemed like he didn’t even have to try and he’d send hearts a flutter.”

“Yeah, that’s Sam,” I say and sigh out loud.Was.

“I loved the story,” Janice says, and tilts her head to the side. “I think it’ll have wide appeal, but there’s just one loose end you haven’t tied up.”

“Really?” I ask. What have I left unresolved?

“What about the sheriff?” Janice asks.

I scratch at my chin. “What do you mean?”

“You have to end on a happy tone,” Janice says.

But do I?I know that’s the typical structure of a romance novel—to have a happy resolution, a happily ever after. I thought Sam and I would have that.We didn’t.

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