Read Online Stealing Second: Sam's Story: Book 4 in the Clarksonville Series by Barbara L. Clanton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara L. Clanton
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it you don’t wallow in?” Sam raised both eyebrows in an accusing, but playful expression.
“Touché,” Helene admitted. “
Prélude Number Four
.”
“Hey, let’s play
Vocalise
for Mother’s next luncheon. Accompany me on piano.”
Helene didn’t smile. “You know your mother doesn’t want me to play when the ladies are here. I’m too busy serving tea or helping Mrs. Tardelli in the kitchen.” Helene reached up and cupped Sam’s face in a nurturing gesture. “You’re a good girl.”
As Helene turned to leave, Sam said, “Don’t forget, I’m having dinner at Lisa’s bio-dad’s house tonight, so I’ll be home late.”
A frown flickered across Helene’s face. It was gone so quickly that Sam wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it. “That’ll be nice. Say hello to Lisa for me.”
“I will. Her aunts are visiting from Massachusetts.”
“Sounds like a family reunion. Drive carefully, okay?”
“I always do.”
Sam listened as Helene’s soft footsteps faded away on the carpeted hallway outside her suite. She locked up her violin and, on her way to the bathroom, paused to look out the rain splattered windows in her bedroom. Hopefully Helene’s weather prediction was right and it would be a sunny day for the pool party. She sighed and threw her blond hair into a ponytail and wondered if she and Lisa would be able to find alone time. It was hard with Lisa’s three younger siblings underfoot. Maybe they could bribe nine-year-old Lynnie to watch the kids while they snuck into Lisa’s bedroom for a few minutes.
Satisfied with her hair, she laughed at her black eye. The kids were going to love it. Her mother had a fit the day she came home with it. Sam let her parents think she’d gotten hurt in the softball game. Actually, that part was kind of true, but it wasn’t a softball that hit her. Sam’s mother wanted to yank her off the team immediately, but her father talked her out of it. Her mother placed a panicked call to Dr. Boyle to make sure. Sam laughed at the memory. What in the world did a psychiatrist know about black eyes?
Sam wondered if she should make an appointment with him to talk over her troubles. “Now that I have friends, why do things feel more hopeless than ever?” she said to her reflection as if talking to her psychiatrist directly.
Dr. Boyle would say it was because the stakes were higher; that she had more to lose. It might make sense to have an unbiased listener hear her problems. But how in the world could she tell him that she was gay? That the perfect princess was a dyke?
Dr. Boyle would probably say it was a phase. He’d say Sam was confused, and she’d grow out of the crush she had on her friend Lisa. Was that all it was? A crush? Sam shook her head. Hell no. She’d had crushes on girls her entire life. What she felt for Lisa was so much more than that.
“Screw Dr. Boyle.” Sam shoved her car keys and wallet in her pockets and headed out her bedroom door.
Psychiatrists don’t know everything
! Who was she kidding, anyway? Dr. Boyle would tell her parents she was gay. And that, above all else, was the thing to be avoided.
Sam yanked the box of books she’d collected for Lisa’s brother and sisters off her desk and stomped out of her suite, mad at herself for thinking Dr. Boyle could help her. Her parents paid him to keep perfect Samantha Rose perfect.
Chapter Seven
The Best Sound I've Ever Heard
AFTER WHAT SEEMED like two hours instead of forty five minutes, Sam pulled the Sebring into Lisa’s driveway. Maybe the trip felt longer because of the rain. Her dull headache hadn’t helped, either. At least when she was at Lisa’s she didn’t have to be in the closet or be rich debutante Samantha Rose Payton. At Lisa’s she could be herself.
With a growing smile, she popped the trunk and pulled out the box of books she’d brought for the kids. She dashed between rain drops to the front landing and rang the bell. When she
“Touché,” Helene admitted. “
Prélude Number Four
.”
“Hey, let’s play
Vocalise
for Mother’s next luncheon. Accompany me on piano.”
Helene didn’t smile. “You know your mother doesn’t want me to play when the ladies are here. I’m too busy serving tea or helping Mrs. Tardelli in the kitchen.” Helene reached up and cupped Sam’s face in a nurturing gesture. “You’re a good girl.”
As Helene turned to leave, Sam said, “Don’t forget, I’m having dinner at Lisa’s bio-dad’s house tonight, so I’ll be home late.”
A frown flickered across Helene’s face. It was gone so quickly that Sam wasn’t sure she’d actually seen it. “That’ll be nice. Say hello to Lisa for me.”
“I will. Her aunts are visiting from Massachusetts.”
“Sounds like a family reunion. Drive carefully, okay?”
“I always do.”
Sam listened as Helene’s soft footsteps faded away on the carpeted hallway outside her suite. She locked up her violin and, on her way to the bathroom, paused to look out the rain splattered windows in her bedroom. Hopefully Helene’s weather prediction was right and it would be a sunny day for the pool party. She sighed and threw her blond hair into a ponytail and wondered if she and Lisa would be able to find alone time. It was hard with Lisa’s three younger siblings underfoot. Maybe they could bribe nine-year-old Lynnie to watch the kids while they snuck into Lisa’s bedroom for a few minutes.
Satisfied with her hair, she laughed at her black eye. The kids were going to love it. Her mother had a fit the day she came home with it. Sam let her parents think she’d gotten hurt in the softball game. Actually, that part was kind of true, but it wasn’t a softball that hit her. Sam’s mother wanted to yank her off the team immediately, but her father talked her out of it. Her mother placed a panicked call to Dr. Boyle to make sure. Sam laughed at the memory. What in the world did a psychiatrist know about black eyes?
Sam wondered if she should make an appointment with him to talk over her troubles. “Now that I have friends, why do things feel more hopeless than ever?” she said to her reflection as if talking to her psychiatrist directly.
Dr. Boyle would say it was because the stakes were higher; that she had more to lose. It might make sense to have an unbiased listener hear her problems. But how in the world could she tell him that she was gay? That the perfect princess was a dyke?
Dr. Boyle would probably say it was a phase. He’d say Sam was confused, and she’d grow out of the crush she had on her friend Lisa. Was that all it was? A crush? Sam shook her head. Hell no. She’d had crushes on girls her entire life. What she felt for Lisa was so much more than that.
“Screw Dr. Boyle.” Sam shoved her car keys and wallet in her pockets and headed out her bedroom door.
Psychiatrists don’t know everything
! Who was she kidding, anyway? Dr. Boyle would tell her parents she was gay. And that, above all else, was the thing to be avoided.
Sam yanked the box of books she’d collected for Lisa’s brother and sisters off her desk and stomped out of her suite, mad at herself for thinking Dr. Boyle could help her. Her parents paid him to keep perfect Samantha Rose perfect.
Chapter Seven
The Best Sound I've Ever Heard
AFTER WHAT SEEMED like two hours instead of forty five minutes, Sam pulled the Sebring into Lisa’s driveway. Maybe the trip felt longer because of the rain. Her dull headache hadn’t helped, either. At least when she was at Lisa’s she didn’t have to be in the closet or be rich debutante Samantha Rose Payton. At Lisa’s she could be herself.
With a growing smile, she popped the trunk and pulled out the box of books she’d brought for the kids. She dashed between rain drops to the front landing and rang the bell. When she
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