“Sam… Sam!” It was a plaintive wail that almost tore her asunder and instinctively she turned toward him and tried to push her wheelchair past Josh and Norman to reach the child. But Josh grabbed the handles on the back of the wheelchair and Norm blocked her, the two men had instantly understood each other without a word. It would do no good now. The mother was all over her child.

“Stop…” Sam pushed at Norm. “I have to see him.”

“You can't, Sam!” He spoke quietly but firmly, and Josh wouldn't let go of the chair as she pushed.

“I have to, dammit…Josh, let go!” She was beginning to sob now, but already Timmie's mother's lawyer was pushing his little wheelchair from the room as in anguish Timmie turned back toward Samantha, waving his little arms with a grief-stricken face.

“Sam… Sam!”

“I love you!” she called out. “I love you, Timmie! It's okay!” And then he was gone. And as though the last ounce of strength had left her, she dropped her face in her hands and began to sob. For a long moment neither man knew what to do, and then Norman knelt beside her.

“I'm so sorry, Sam… we can appeal it.”

“No.” She could barely speak as she reached for her handkerchief and shook her head at Norm. “No. I can't do that to him.” He nodded and stood up and then signaled Josh. There was no reason to stay there. It was all over for Samantha and Timmie. The boy was gone.

38

For the rest of the week Sam stayed at the big house, never leaving the building, and for the first day not leaving her room. Norman had come to pick up Timmie's things to return them to the social worker for Timmie, but Sam had refused to see him. Josh was taking care of everything for her. Twice that morning Norman had knocked on the door. He had even tried to call her. But she didn't want to see anyone, except Timmie. She had just lost the last love of her life.

“Will she be all right?” Norm asked Josh with a look of sorrow, and the old man shook his head with tears in his eyes.

“I don't know. She's tough, but she's lost a lot. And this… you don't know how she loved him.”

Norman nodded sadly. “Yes, I do.” For the first time in his career, as he left the courthouse the previous evening, he had stepped on the gas as hard as he could in his Mercedes, and as he drove home at eighty miles an hour he had cried too. “I'd like to see her when she's ready. And I want to talk to her about an appeal. I think it would be worth it. This is an unusual case, because what she has against her is the fact that she is both single and crippled. But it's absolutely incredible that the court should find for a prostitute and a drug addict because she's a natural mother against a woman like Sam. I want to take this one all the way to the Supreme Court.”

“I'll tell her.” Josh looked as though he approved. “When I see her.”

And then suddenly Norman looked worried. “She wouldn't do anything crazy, would she?”

Josh thought for a while. “I don't think so.” He didn't know she had tried that once before in the hospital in New York. But this time she wasn't suicidal. She just wished she were dead, but some faint, irrational hope that one day she might get Timmie back kept her from doing anything truly crazy. Instead, she just lay in bed, without moving, without eating, only dragging herself to the bathroom, for two whole days. She just cried and slept and then cried some more when she awoke, and at the end of the second day she awoke to hear someone pounding on her door. She lay silently in bed, fully intending not to answer, and then she heard glass breaking and knew that someone had just come through her front door.

“Who is it?” She sounded frightened. Maybe it was a burglar, she wondered. But as she sat up in bed with a look of confusion and terror, the lights in the hall suddenly went on, and she saw Jeff with his shock of red hair. His arm was bleeding as he stood there and then he looked suddenly embarrassed, and as always he flushed beet-red. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you. I couldn't take it anymore, Sam. I haven't seen a light on in here for two days, and you didn't answer the other times when I came to the door… I thought maybe… I was afraid… I wanted to know if you were all right.” She nodded, smiling at him for caring, and then the tears came again and suddenly he was holding her tightly in his arms. The odd thing was that as he held her it was a familiar feeling, as though he had held her before, as though she knew his arms and his chest and his body, but she knew that it was a crazy thought and she pulled away from him and blew her nose.

“Thanks, Jeff.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at her. Even after two days of just lying there, she looked lovely. And for just an instant he had a wild urge to kiss her, and as he thought of it he flushed bright red again. But as he did she was suddenly laughing through her tears and he looked at her in confusion. “What are you laughing at?”

“When you get embarrassed, you look just like a radish.”

“Thanks a lot.” He grinned. “I've been called carrottop, but never radish-face.” And then with a gentle smile, “You okay, Sam?”

“No. But I will be, I guess.” And then another trickle of tears coursed down her face. “I just hope Timmie'll be okay.”