Unfinished
Business
Chapter Twenty-one
Sam moved quietly out of his bedroom toward the two doors at the other end of the hall. Despite everything that had happened the day before, he felt remarkably rested. It was the best sleep he had in the past week.
He came to a halt before the two doors. One led to Robyn's room, the other to Beth's. The muted sound of movement could be heard from behind his daughter's.
"Beth?" He tapped lightly at the door.
"Good morning, daddy." Her young voice sounded from the opposite of the white panel. Before he turned the knob and allowed the door to swing open, he knew what he would find on the other side. And it was just as he imagined.
Beth, dressed in a long white gown decorated with tiny pink flowers, was busily making her bed. She went about the task with all the concentration and proficiency of someone intent on getting it just so. She seemed so grown up sometimes that it tugged at his heart.
"Good morning, sweetheart." He brushed off the slightly melancholy feeling and moved into the room to help her straighten the edge of the comforter across the bottom portion of the bed. They spoke briefly about school and a recent assignment while they completed the task of straightening her room together. When they were done settling the 'bear-y committee' - a group of her favorite stuffed animals - across the bed just in front of her pillows, Sam sat on the edge of the bed, and patted the space near him.
Beth settled there and looked up toward him, quietly waiting to hear what he had to say.
Sam found that now that the time had come, he wasn't sure what to say. There were quite a few changes in her life lately, and he was about to add another. It wasn't so much that he thought she would mind having Robyn around; they got along great. It was the repercussions that might come with that stay that bothered him.
"What do you think of Robyn staying here with us for a little while?" He finally asked. If she had questions as to why, he would simply deal with them.
To his surprise, her face lit up right away with excitement. "Like Uncle Mark does sometimes? Like a sleepover?"
Sam nodded and smiled, her enthusiasm was contagious. "Yes, kind of like a sleepover. She'll even be sleeping in the room that Mark normally uses."
Beth seemed to consider the idea for several moments, but her expression clearly showed how she felt. But then she looked up at him from the corner of her eye, a thoughtful wrinkle appearing between her young brows. "Do you want her to stay?" she asked, turning his question back on him.
"Oh. . . uh, well . . ." Sam stumbled a bit, not having expected that maneuver. "Truth is, honey, I've already told her that she can stay. But more than that, I think it's important that she does. For the time being. She has her own home, and she'll be going back that to live when she's done visiting with us."
"You yelled at her yesterday. Did you make up?"
"Yes," Sam nodded, embarrassment and guilt crept over him as he remembered the way he'd behaved the day before and then the way he and Robin had parted before they'd gone to bed. "We did make up. I apologized to her, and I owe you an apology, too. I should not have gotten so angry."
"It's okay," Beth smiled sweetly. "You were probably just tired. And I hope Robin can stay with us for a long time. She's really nice and," Beth began to enumerate Robin's virtues on her fingers, "she can cook really well, and she tells great jokes, and she understands a lot girl stuff. And if you just get too know her, I think you'll like her a lot more."
Sam blinked down at his daughter, somewhat speechless.
"So, will you let her?" Beth prodded.
"So, will I let her what?"
"Will you let her stay for a really, really long time if she wants to?"
"Oh. . . uh. . . well . . ." Sam struggled for a safe way to answer that question, wondering just when it was that the conversation had gotten out of his control.
"Morning Robyn."
He saw Beth's eyes track behind him just as he heard a politely cleared throat. He hadn't heard Robyn leave her room. He turned, hoping that she hadn't been standing there too long.
"Good morning," Robin responded brightly, there was laughter in her eyes.
"Good morning." Sam replied, groaning inwardly. He got up from the bed and moved toward the door. "Who wants breakfast?" he asked.
"Me!" Beth enthused.
Sam sent a questioning look Robyn's way.
"Coffee." She spoke softly, still obviously laughing at him. "How about some help?"
"Oh, I think I can handle coffee," Sam replied, already headed for the stairs.
"But I could teach you things," Robyn teased. "Like, how to cook really well, and tell great jokes and all about girl stuff."
Sam couldn't help it, he laughed, his embarrassment fading. "I was really hoping that you hadn't heard all of that."
"Why not? I'm thoroughly complimented to know that I relate on an 8 year old level." Robyn said self-deprecatingly.
By then they'd reached the kitchen. Sam headed for the coffee maker while Robyn moved toward the nearby cabinet for the mugs. "Oh, I don't think it's a bad thing," he said, filling the reservoir with water. "I've met some women who didn't relate to her at all."
Robyn settled the mugs on the counter and leaned against it, watching him as he measured the coffee into the filter. "Umm hmm. So is that what you're looking for? Someone who will relate to Beth?"
"If you'll remember, I wasn't exactly looking for you." Sam turned the switch to on and turned to face her, catching the mild hint of embarrassment in her expression.
"Right. You're right." She began to back off.
"Hey. . . " Sam caught her arm before she could move very far. "I told you that I'm glad you're here, and I meant that. I'm glad we met."
He looked down at her as he spoke earnestly, surprised at just how much he did mean what he'd said. Somehow, he felt as if a bit of a weight that he hadn't realized he was carrying had been lifted from his shoulders. At some point during the night, while they had talked, he had felt it ease away.
Robyn turned her arm over and maneuvered her hand into his and squeezed. She smiled, acknowledging his statement with the warmth of her gaze. "I'd better get dressed."
Sam found himself watching her go. He could still feel the softness of her skin beneath his palm, and the caring nature of her presence on his psyche.