Death Of Innocence

Author's Note: Recently I watched Reunion on DVD and considered what Jack's childhood was like. Just how was it that lack of a mother's love and Gauchers Disease made him what he is, how did Jack become a killer? Also, though supposedly Sam's father told Jack about her, there was no defined description of how he became obsessed with her. This story starts from Jack's earliest days through his meeting Samantha and will resume and rewrite Reunion 1&2. There is some consensual sex between two teenagers in three chapters of this story.



Part 1


Age: 2 Months

Miriam was furious when she went to see her infant son in the nursery. The baby was all coos and smiles for his au pair, then screamed hideously when his mother picked him up. The nice lady held him gently, but this other person, "Mother" held him stiffly and didn't support his head well. That evening, Miriam told her husband she thought the au pair was incompetent and should be fired. The Senator readily agreed with his wife and dismissed the girl. In the middle of the night Miriam got up and walked into the nursery, the baby smiled up at her until she began to scream at him for making her look bad.

The baby started to scream back in a high pitched wail. Miriam didn't mean to, but her hand came down over his nose and mouth to shut him up. He turned blue and stopped breathing. In a panic Miriam called the paramedics. They revived him and informed her that baby Albert Jackson Newquay would be fine, but that he would need to be observed overnight. The hospital and her husband made such a fuss over her and told her how brave she was. Miriam was thrilled.

Age: 3-10 Months

Baby Albert, was destined for more trips to doctors and specialists as mysterious ailment after mysterious ailment befell him. Health care professionals, nannies, and servants all whispered; but no one challenged Senator Newquay's wife. He was a very bright and friendly baby that clung to strangers and hid his face from his Mother. Then one night when he was 10 months old, Mother and Father had a huge argument. From his crib, Baby Albert watched as Father hit mother and said something about, "Munchausen Syndrome By Proxy."

The next day, Miriam was confined to her room and had a nurse attending her. Mother was allowed to continue her life as normal after that, but was only allowed to see Albert with the Senator present. Baby Newquay got a nice young nanny that loved babies and who thought Albert was the best baby in the world. She read to him and cuddled him. Not only did Baby Albert catch up to other babies his age, bright chap that he was, he surpassed them.

Age: 3 Years

Albert was growing rapidly and was healthy. Father took him to his office, with the nanny to wrangle him if he became too much to handle. Father spoke of wealth and privilege and what it meant.

"Albert, you will one day be one of the wealthiest men on the earth, do you know what that means?"

"No Sir," he replied. Father didn't believe in baby talk and given Albert's keen mind that wasn't much of an issue.

"Wealth and money mean power my son and that makes you God. You do want to be God don't you?"

Actually, Albert wanted to be a highwayman like in a poem nanny read, but he nodded like a good boy.

Age: 4-5 Years

Mother was allowed to see Albert now without constant supervision, though Father kept close tabs on them. Albert began learning from private tutors. Reading and language came quickly and to a very high level. Music and mathematics were added and came quickly as well. People began to call him "genius" and "prodigy" and even Mother seemed happier with him. Both Miriam and the Senator were pleased to have him perform piano and violin concertos for guests and to dazzle dinner guests with very mature conversation in any one of eight languages.

Maybe if he tried hard enough and was good enough, they would love him like his nanny once had. She left just before he turned four and his parents hired tutors. The night of his fifth birthday, when he blew out his candles, Albert wished with all his heart for someone to love him and be his friend. Mother and the Senator told him the other children in the area were rubes and that he would have to entertain himself up in the attic quietly or read. Albert tried to mention some of the kid's houses looked nice like theirs, but Mother informed him that wealth didn't mean class.

"But Mother, Father says 'wealth makes you God.' If their families are wealthy, aren't they gods too?"

"Certainly not, young man!" Miriam declared offended. "Wealth is a means to an end. No one can truly ascend to greater heights without the arts, without nobility, without breeding. Those brats are nouveau riche, leeches trying to suck on the teat of the aristocracy. You're too intellectually superior to waste your time on your inferiors."

"But they're still human beings," he made one last attempt.

"So what? What's the value of that? Perhaps we can find one of your titled cousins for you to play with when we visit the Chateau next summer."

Age: 6 Years

At Christmas, just two months short of his sixth birthday, Albert was sick. When other children were screaming with joy and tearing open presents, he walked downstairs and collapsed, breaking three bones when he did so. The heir to the Newquay fortune was rushed to John Hopkins in Bethesda Maryland for the best care money could buy. After testing, they diagnosed Albert Jackson Newquay with Gauchers Disease. There was no cure for the disease and even with the best of medical care his life expectancy was short. If he made it to see age thirteen it would be a miracle.

Exhaustion and pain were to be young Albert's daily companions. Constant pain would become the child's most intimate friend as would the unending cycle of broken bones. Some bones would break from the tiniest mishaps, others would break from the sheer brittleness as he laid in bed. Though his parents initially concealed the illness from him, as soon as he overheard a conversation in which they named the illness, he pursued every piece of knowledge he could and consumed it. He understood his anemia caused the exhaustion and that his body was trying to destroy itself from within.

Disappointed by his son's inability to participate in sports like his compatriots sons and grandsons, the Senator withdrew from his son other than barbed comments that he would direct at him. The Senator called the boy weak and a faggot, almost daily his enmity seemed to increase. By contrast his Mother, delighted by him having a genuine illness would smother him constantly in front of visitors and began to run fund raisers for Gaucher Disease. Though the minute the audience was gone, she would send him to his room, claiming he gave her a headache, just with his very presence.

Age: 7 Years

Albert was sent to his first boarding school and it lasted an entire two months. Because of his advanced intellect and the progress he'd made with private tutors, the school was a prep school. All the other boys were more than twice his age. They despised the young prodigy whom the teacher's embraced. Normally the school would never have accepted such a young child, but money spoke loudly. Albert left the school after the bullying escalated and ended with a hospital stay that was nearly twice as long as his school career. The Senator, blamed his son for being weak and decided he needed to be toughened up. Albert left military school after 2 weeks by ambulance and was never sent back to that school.

The hold of the disease seemed to intensify. The Senator's disdain increased almost daily. He began to blame his wife and Son for every wrong in his life. Verbal cruelty rained down on Mother and Son like the rain that caused the great flood. But there would be no reprieve after 40 days and 40 nights. Somedays Mother would cling to Albert sobbing and saying he was her only comfort, other days she would scream and blame him. Albert went to bed each night with a litany going through his head, worthless pansy, bookworm, faggot, your fault, never should have been born.

Tensions in the Newquay household exploded just before Albert's 8th birthday. After crying himself to sleep nearly every day for months, Albert decided to put a stop to things. Life was too painful and he saw no hope. He didn't bother with writing a note, he knew no one would really care about the why. That evening he knelt and prayed before walking into the bathroom, where he slashed his wrists. Fate however had other plans, and Albert's mother found him before he bled out. Shortly after the hospital, he was sent to a plastic surgeon to repair the scars, because his family was ashamed of his behavior.

Age: 8 Years

Albert's attempted and nearly successful suicide served a catalyst in the lives of the Newquay home. Mother and the Senator argued bitterly and though their marriage remained legally intact, they resided separately. The Senator remained in Maryland to work and oversee the family's financial interests. Abandoning the northern clime for their winter home, Miriam ensconced herself in their Savannah mansion. Before the separation there was a great deal of screaming and each parent let their Son know they held him responsible.

The Senator told Albert that he was an embarrassment and that had he not need of an heir, he would wish that his wife hadn't found him in time. Only slightly different was Miriam's speech on how Albert was failing the family, that he had a name and heritage to live up to. As he lay in his hospital bed recovering from his plastic surgery, the youngest Newquay wept quietly and prayed. Failed by humanity in general, despondent and isolated, he turned to God as his best and only hope. The Senator once asked him if he would like to be God; now as the helplessness and hopelessness threatened to consume him, Albert found comfort in thoughts of divine power and omnipotence.

As punishment for his actions, Albert was sent to a very rigid boarding school in New Orleans. A whole new set of problems manifested itself at the new school. The school, though prestigious when the Senator was young, had fallen on hard times. St. Augustines had lowered it's tuition and now catered primarily to the underprivileged. On his second day in the school, one of the older boys christened him, "Prince Albert" and another took it further to "Prince Albert the Prick." During his study hall in the library, Albert would attempt to lose himself in Dante, while the boys would hiss insults with quiet venom. He would sit as rigid as a statue and continue to focus on his book, he consoled himself with the fact that they were his mental inferiors and that one day he would have power.

The torments were for the most part verbal, the teachers kept close watch over him, not wishing to lose the generous donation his father offered the school. Even with physical protection, the verbal barbs flew constantly and Albert climbed deep within the reaches of his mind. Physical pain from the Gauchers and emotional pain from constant degradation, forced him to learn to mentally transport himself to another plane. Albert constructed a world that was all his own in the recesses of him mind. In his world, it was softly lit twilight, with roses, strains of jazz and classical music filled the air, he held power of life and death with a golden haired angel by his side.

St. Augustines lasted for nearly a year when Albert left after leaving a spectacularly violent impact on the school. One night, after the instructors had gone to sleep and there was no longer an adult watching over him, a pair of sixteen year old boys grabbed him from his bed and carried him to the shower room. Being cruel and unbalanced, they had decided that Prince Albert, needed to have the piercing that his nickname invoked. After much struggle, they got Albert stripped down. One was holding him down and the other had an ice pick to do the job.

Although Albert was terrified, he fought with all his strength, breaking bones in one hand and his right ulna, he grabbed the ice pick and stabbed at the boy who had been wielding it. With all his might he brought it down against the older boy's groin, stabbing his femoral artery. Seeing the blood streaming out, the other boy panicked and started screaming, Albert calmly redressed and backed the shocked boy into a corner. When the teachers heard the screams, they found Albert standing over the boy in the corner, holding the bloody ice pick.

The boy was sobbing and pleading, cowering before the younger boy, who smiled wickedly as he got his first true taste of power. Power, Albert Jackson Newquay realized wasn't merely wealth as the Senator told him or breeding as his mother said. True omnipotence lay in the power over life and death. Albert was asked to leave the school, though no charges were filed since it was technically self-defense. The pain in his freshly broken bones didn't bother him, Albert had never felt more alive than he did watching the blood flow from the one boy and watching the other grovel for his worthless life.

Age: 9 to 14 Years

Albert was bounced from boarding school to boarding school. He would suffer mockery and pain at the hands of the other students. His parents wanted nothing to do with him except to make certain his grades were high. When he earned his first 'B' ever, they didn't permit him to come home for Christmas and berated him repeatedly over the phone. Their criticism no longer made him cry, Albert was used to being alone. He discovered that sometimes he felt lonelier in a room full of people than when he was actually alone. Gradually he became even more introverted, sometimes not even speaking for days at a time.

Teachers though always impressed with young Master Newquay's intellect, started to feel uneasy around him. His eyes had taken on a strange other worldly gleam to them, as if there were some great cosmic secret that he and he alone knew. He never attacked another student since the ice pick incident, but when he was mocked and taunted, Albert would amuse himself by visualizing horrific and violent ways of killing his tormentors. Power over life and death was the ultimate power and if he lived long enough, he would exercise that power.

When Albert left his sixth school, he was horribly ill. His exhaustion from the Gauchers and a spectacular 8 broken bones, courtesy of another student, rendered him almost completely bedridden. Neither of his parents wished to deal with him, though Miriam had in a rare motherly fit, demanded to know the name of his attacker and deliberately ruined his family financially. Uncertain what to do, they bought a new library building for the city of Cincinnati and got him ensconced in his own suite of an orphanage near the Cincinnati Children's Hospital. Their acquaintances would have been horrified, but the Newquay's Son was largely forgotten and the Cincinnati Children's Hospital was one of the top ten pediatric hospitals in the country.

Age 15

Life in the orphanage was hard on Albert, though he had a huge set of rooms and private bath to himself, the other residents hated him and the staff resented the wealthy young man. He was largely able to keep to himself, cases filled with books and a small spinet piano were his beloved companions. There was a constant din of noise that was inescapable, talking, laughing, yelling, and modern music that made Albert cringe. He clung to his phonograph and sultry jazz albums. Disco and the wild flopping of limbs that accompanied it held no interest for him. Often late at night, if his pain wasn't too awful, he would dance by himself and imagine a beautiful girl in white in his arms as he would waltz the night away.

There was one thing Albert liked about the orphanage, it was in an ancient Victorian house and there was a trapdoor and steps that came down into his room that lead up to the attic. The attic was loaded with odd old treasures, forgotten most likely by the original owners and never found by the orphanage. Musty old clothing, some wonderful records and other odds and ends. Best of all there were books on a variety of topics, including one very naughty one called 'The Kama Sutra' which made Albert blush, though he secretly read and devoured the taboo volume.

Though meal times and lesson times were unbearable, the time he spent in the peace of his rooms was pleasant, if a little chilly. The rooms tended to be rather cold and that wasn't a great help to the already frail Albert. He knew the doctors had given him a life expectancy of thirteen and he was only a year away. Sometimes he would lie awake at night and wonder what being dead would be like. The pain had been getting progressively worse and he had not had a day in over a year that at least one bone in his body wasn't in some part of the healing process from a break. He knew he didn't have a lot longer, but it didn't really matter to him either.




Part 2

Age: 15 Years 3 Months

Albert was confined to his room with a badly broken leg, which suited him just fine. Taking his meals in his room and handing assignments over daily was worth the pain. Occasionally one of the other young residents would poke their head in his room to try to taunt him or to tell him some piece of gossip that they were under the illusion held actual interest for him. Certainly it was a reprieve from the rabble and their pointless noise. Shortly before his injury the staff in an effort to integrate him socially, had started forcing him to stay in the recreation room and watch television with the rest of the children from time to time. Young Newquay was grateful to be free of the torture of the idiot box, he didn't suffer fools gladly and that included their trappings.

"Hey your highness, looks like you ain't the only one whose parents don't want you. Got another reject," a voice mocked from the doorway.

"Doubtless I will be unable to dissuade you from your oh so fascinating verbal bent," Albert Jackson Newquay answered mockingly looking up from his wheel chair by the window where he had been reading. "Pray do continue your pointless revelation."

Billy Watkins didn't know everything Albert had said, but he never did. The kid was a freak the 17 year old decided and continued his announcement. "Hot little blonde with a nice ass. I'd bang the hell out of her."

Albert sat his book down and wheeled over to his spinet piano. Pain ridden fingers moved with dexterity and Chopin's Ballade drove Billy away in short order. Of all the residents of the orphanage, he hated Billy the most. One simply did not speak of girls in those terms, even the mentally inferior ones that resided here. Billy was forever saying the words: tits, ass, banging, screwing, and other less polite terminology. Frequently he would claim to have nailed this girl or discuss how that one wanted him. Albert doubted the verity of Billy's claims and had overheard one of the girls warn another to watch out for him that he tried to touch her.

Two nights later, Albert's door was open slightly as he caressed the keys of his piano and sang softly. He was aware from the slight draft when the door opened further then the sound of the door closing, he continued his song, though his senses were on alert. As he inhaled, the scent of roses wafted gently toward him. Just as the last note sounded, the presence was very close, he tensed and got ready to turn around. Ready to give a scathing speech to whomever had invaded his space, the words were cut off by a soft feminine voice.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you, but won't you please play some more?" the voice entreated as the scent of roses perfumed the air beside him.

He looked up and his dark eyes met with sky blue. Standing beside him was a girl, his age, maybe a little younger. Blonde hair spilled about her shoulders and an oversized white flannel nightgown enveloped her. An air of sadness clung to her as she studied him and waited for his answer. For several moments they stared at one another in silent reflection, neither moving, scarce even breathing. Shaken, he began to slowly play again and he was rewarded with a smile from his visitor. She walked to a wooden chair, looked up at him and inclined her head for permission to sit. As he nodded assent, she drug the chair to the piano and sat beside his wheelchair. He played until his hands ached and his arms were trembling from the effort. Just as the pain was getting to be so great he feared he'd have to stop, she stood up.

"This was the nicest time I've had since-," she trailed off. Then on impulse, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. Softly she murmured, "Thank you."

A crimson blush stole across her pale face and she dashed from the room, leaving Albert in a daze. Her brief caress was the first physical affection or genuine affection of any sort he'd been given in years. For nearly an hour he sat in silence, tears that he thought no longer existed within him coursed down his cheeks. Even though he hadn't yet found out her name, Albert Jackson Newquay swore to protect and love the blonde angel until the day he died. For the first time in his life, Albert felt love and no matter what the cost he would never let it go.

Sleep didn't come easily to Albert as he lay thinking about his visitor. She looked to be roughly his age with wisdom beyond her years lying sadly within her blue eyes. He wondered if her family really had cast her off, he couldn't imagine anyone wanting to send his blonde angel away. He didn't even know her name, but he somehow he knew she was his. As he finally drifted off to sleep, Albert Jackson Newquay, tried to imagine what her name might be.

The next day, when he took his breakfast in his room, he was pleasantly surprised to see his visitor from last night carrying in a large tray. He cursed his injury as he wished he could run to the door and help her with the tray, but he wheeled over and asked if he could do anything.

"I've got it," she replied and carried it over to the small alcove that had a couple chairs and a low coffee table.

Albert closed the door and wheeled over to her. Because he was a boarder of sorts, his parents paid for him to have larger quarters than any of the other residents at the orphanage. Even if they didn't want him, they did expect him to maintain a certain position in life.

"When I found out that you have to eat up here, I thought maybe you would be lonely." Sam told him and then confided, "You're not like the rest of them. It's a little scary here."

Feeling overjoyed to hear her mirror his feelings, he responded with a smile. "I would be honored if you joined me Miss-?"

"Sam. My name is Samantha but everyone calls me Sam."

"Then I shall call you Samantha, because I don't want to be like everyone," he teased.

She handed him one of the plates of toast and egg and took a bite from her own plate, "Are you really a prince?"

"A prince?" he asked confused, then the meaning dawned on him. "No, some of the clowns just call me Prince Albert to showcase their inferiority complexes."

"So what's your full name?"

"Albert Jackson Newquay."

"Hhmm, Al, Bert, Jack" Samantha considered it. Then she declared, "Jack! I think I'll call you Jack."

He stared in disbelief as she dismissed his first name and renamed him.

"Well, Jack is a much nicer name and if you don't want to call me what everyone else does, than I think it's only fair don't you?"

"I guess." Trying it on his tongue he murmured, "Jack. I'm Jack. All right Samantha, for you I'll be Jack."

She smiled and then her smile faded. "Jack, can I ask you something that's not nice, but that I want to know about you?" When he shrugged, she proceeded, "Is is true that you have parents even though you stay here?"

Jack sighed, "For what little good it does me, yes. Billy told me the same thing about you."

"Yes. No. Well my Mom died about two years ago and my Dad is really busy so I live with my Aunt. She's real sick at the moment so I had to leave and come here because a friend of hers is on some board in the city here-" she trailed off and then confessed miserably. "I hate it here. I miss my friend Angel and the girls here aren't like at home. They're so mean and they don't talk properly, they use bad words and say ain't."

Jack nodded sympathetically, he hated life here as well. He wasn't sure what to say but he tried valiantly, "Everything will be all right Samantha."

Overwhelmed by emotion and hearing kind words for the first time since leaving her Aunt's house, Samantha began to cry. "I want to go home. Why did my Mom have to die? I miss my friends and my school and even Ms. Nielson the lady who runs the bookmobile. What if my Aunt dies too, Jack? Won't my Dad have to take me then? I don't want to stay here and I'm scared and I-" she sobbed.

Jack moved painfully out of his wheelchair and into the chair next to her. He reached out to pat her shoulder and she looked up at him with wet glassy tears. As he gently touched her shoulder he vowed, "I'll take care of you Samantha."

"You will?"

"Until the day I die, my Samantha."

She threw herself into his lap, careless of his cast encased leg. It was slightly uncomfortable and Jack thought he heard a rib crack in his thin chest, but he didn't care. His Samantha could break every bone in his body if it would make her happy. God, he decided had brought him an angel and he would cherish her. Wrapping his arms around her, Jack reveled as her silky hair brushed against his cheek. Slowly her sobbing subsided and she raised her head from his chest and looked into his eyes.

Time stopped as they gazed deeply into one another's eyes and the two lost souls found a kindred spirit. In silent communion, Jack and Samantha as they had named one another, started the game neither would fully understand for a long time to come. Hesitantly Jack raised a hand to her cheek and wiped away her tears. A painful knot of long ignored emotions swelled in his throat, this was more physical human contact than he could ever remember having before. He wished he knew what to say to his pretty friend to make her feel better, but was at a loss.

Finally he decided to try asking her, "Samantha, what makes you happy?"

"Other than going home?" She nestled against his chest and wrapped her arms around him. When his arms went around her, Sam felt contented. Back home she would have never dreamed of getting so close to someone she barely knew. But there was something about this boy that was different from anyone she'd ever met and since she'd come to this awful place, this was the first time she'd felt safe.

Softly Jack said, "Talk to me. Come on, talk to me. Talk to me Samantha."

"Reading. I love to read," she responded.

"So do I, while you're here you're welcome to borrow my books," Jack gestured to the shelves. "There are more up in the attic, but that will have to wait until my cast comes off next week."

"What happened?" Sam looked at his cast and shifted slightly in his lap.

"It's not important," Jack dismissed his injury. "What else makes you happy my Samantha?"

"Roses, I love roses. The next door neighbor Mrs. Lewis has the most beautiful rose bush, but she screams at us kids if we get near it." Quietly, Samantha confided, "Once when she was out of town I snuck over and cut one off. I couldn't help myself."

"And did you get away with it?" he teased.

Shaking her head, "I wish. Her daughter Vera was being baby-sat by my Aunt and she spotted me and told on me to both my Aunt and her Mom. I know I shouldn't have, but it was such a perfect red rose and the petals looked so velvety soft."

"Someday my Samantha, you will have all the red roses your heart could desire."

"Do you think? Some of the older girls at my school got a rose at Valentines and Angel got a carnation from a boy a little before I had to come here."

Samantha, Jack decided would have her first rose from him the moment his cast was off and he could get to a flower shop. "So what else makes you happy?"

"You do," she replied and turned scarlet the moment the words were out of her mouth. She quickly tried to cover and amended, "I mean your piano playing last night made me happy! Would you play for me Jack?"

Turning rather pink himself, he responded, "Of course Samantha."



Part 3

Age: 15 Years 4 Months

Jack was excited, the cast on his leg had been removed this morning and although he could only walk slowly, he was able to walk again. Normally he would have felt disappointed at the prospect of having to take lessons with the other children at the home again; but since Samantha entered his life, nothing mattered but the precious time he got to spend with her. On slightly uncertain limbs, Jack made his way from the florist shop towards the orphan's home. Under his coat, to avoid drawing attention from the home's residents, Jack clutched a box for Samantha. He could hardly wait to give her his gift.

Since their first day together, Samantha spent every free moment with Jack. Somedays they would talk non-stop of their hopes and dreams. Other days they would take turns reading aloud to one another. Last week Jack had begun teaching her to play piano, so one day they would be able to play duets together. Today however, he could at last show her his attic and share the treasures it held with her. In the last few weeks, Samantha became Jack's entire world.

While he waited for the florist to box up his purchase, Jack idly flipped through a book on the counter of wedding flowers. The cashier teased him gently that he was a bit young to worry about getting married. Jack had never given the matter thought, but as he walked past a bridal shop on the way to the home, he paused outside the window. Briefly he stared at a fluffy white gown in the window.

Samantha would look like an angel in a dress like that, maybe one day when they were older- But Jack wouldn't live that long, he realized with a frown. Strange, before Samantha, life and death were meaningless. Now, the idea that Jack wouldn't get to grow up and marry her, mattered tremendously. Shaking his thoughts away, Jack started walking again, he wanted Samantha's present to arrive in perfect condition.

Jack crept past the other residents and up the stairs to his room. When he opened his door, Samantha was on his bed engrossed in a book. Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable as he looked at her. She had on a skirt and the way she was laying, he caught a glimpse of her panties. Jack blushed and averted his eyes, as the unwelcome memory of the dream he had about her a couple nights ago sprung to mind. He'd dreamed that she was naked and that they were kissing, Jack had woken up to sticky sheets and had trouble looking at her the next day. If Samantha knew he'd had such ungentlemanly thoughts about her, she might not be his friend anymore and Jack couldn't bear the thought of losing Samantha.

"Jack!" Samantha cried with delight as she heard the door close. "No more cast! Does this mean I get to see the attic?"

"Of course. But first I have a present for you," Jack said.

Sam got off the bed with a look of shy pleasure. "Jack, you really didn't have to get me anything."

"I wanted to. Now close your eyes and hold out your hands."

Samantha did as Jack requested. Once he was positive her eyes were closed, he brought the florist box from under his coat and placed it on her outstretched hands. He allowed his thumb to trace hers before pulling his hands away and stepping back. Eager to see her reaction he told her, "Open your eyes now."

Her eyes opened and she smiled at the sight of the bright red bow on the white box. After laying the box on the bed, Samantha pulled the bow open and lifted the lid of the box. Inside were a dozen blood red roses, with long stems and a glossy green leaves. Tentatively she reached out and caressed one velvety blossom with her fingertip. Offering him a dazzling smile, Samantha murmured, "Jack they're beautiful. I can't believe you did this."

"I wanted to be the first boy to give you roses," Jack ducked his head as his face turned nearly as red as the roses.

Impulsively, she threw her arms around him and whispered in his ear, "Thank you."

As she started to pull away, their eyes met and the pair froze in uncertainty. Jack wanted desperately to try and kiss her, but was terrified she would laugh at him. Rather than risk the humiliation he pulled away and offered to fetch her a vase from the attic so she could put them in water. Rapidly he moved to the far side of the room and pulled the chain to lower the attic steps. Samantha watched as he disappeared up the steps. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. When he didn't, she wasn't certain if she was relieved or disappointed. It wasn't that she didn't want to kiss him, but she'd never been kissed before and was afraid of doing it badly.

Jack returned from the attic with a vase and filled it with water in his bathroom. Once the vase was ready, he held it as Sam placed the fragrant blossoms inside. After the roses were arranged, he sat the vase on a table near the bed and lead her to the attic steps. Normally he would have insisted she go first; but in light of her skirt, he suggested he go up first in case there were any mice. Samantha followed closely behind Jack, anxious to see his attic. He'd told her all about it, but this would be the first time she would see it.

The attic was large and had several old leaded glass windows that admitted a soft light. But most eye-catching of all was a large stained glass window of various shades of blue with a red rose in the center. There were trunks and old bits of furniture lining the large space, but Jack obviously kept it straightened up. Only a light scattering of dust that had accumulated during the recovery period for his leg, otherwise it was very neat and ordered. Samantha smiled as Jack anxiously took her by the hand and started to give her the grand tour.

The space was a hodge podge of discarded and antiquated objects that captured Jack's imagination. Books were stacked everywhere and with Jack's encouragement, Sam began to search through them with pleasure. As Samantha read, Jack began to dust and remove the few cobwebs that had appeared during his enforced absence. After completing his task, Jack studied Samantha in the colored light that streamed through the stained glass. This was the first time Jack had ever brought anyone to his sanctuary. Since meeting Samantha, Jack felt the happiest he ever had before and it terrified him. He'd never had a friend before and he was afraid of doing or saying something which would drive her away.

Samantha looked up at Jack and caught him staring at her. Her cheeks colored slightly and she set her book aside. Pointing to an old phonograph that sat on a table near him, she inquired, "Does that work?"

"Yes, there are a lot of old records. Just before I broke my leg I replaced the needle. Want to hear something?"

Samantha nodded and he picked through the pile of albums that lay nearby. Putting on La Vie En Rose, the pair listened for several minutes. As the song ended and she selected another album, he hesitated, "Would you like to dance Samantha?"

"I'd love to, but I'm a terrible dancer," she demurred.

"Oh, I understand," he replied, his voice laced with hurt. Stupid Jack, why would you imagine she would let you near her.

"I'm serious. When I took ballet when I was five, Patty Hofstead, who was the best dancer in my class, told me I had all the grace of a cow."

Placing the needle on the record, Jack held his hand out. "If you can walk, you can dance Samantha. Let me teach you."

As the strains of an orchestra filled the room with a slow waltz of Tea for Two, Jack started teaching Samantha the basic box step. The record played through most of the way before she began to grasp it and to her horror she stepped several times on his feet as he showed her. But he simply smiled, thrilled to be close to her. Towards the end of the song, Samantha was catching on. Relaxing slightly in his arms, she began to enjoy their dance. When the song came to a close, Jack started it back at the beginning.

Slowly the pair danced across the room. At the barrage of schools Jack had attended, ballroom dance was a regular part of the curriculum as they were grooming the students for the upper echelons of society. Gently, he guided Samantha through several turns as they glided across the floor, maintaining an arm's length distance. This time when the song ended, she walked to the turntable and started it again. Returning to Jack, Samantha resumed her position, but with less distance between them.

"I think you're catching on," Jack told her nervously. Other than the few times she had hugged him, he'd never been so close to her before. "Patty was a jealous little fool."

"Thank you for being such a patient teacher."

Smiling and periodically averting their eyes from one another in shyness, Jack and Samantha waltzed and spun round the room. Unconsciously, they moved closer as they danced, until only a small space remained between them. Toward the end of the song, Jack spun Samantha out and when she spun back, they stumbled slightly. Pausing to catch their balance, the pair clung to each other. Tight in each other's embrace their eyes met and a moment later, their lips met as well. Fearing he had angered her by overstepping his bounds, Jack started to turn away.

"Jack," Samantha breathed hesitantly, as a myriad of feelings coursed through her. Their lips had only barely touched and only for a moment, but new sensations lingered.

As Jack slowly returned his gaze to her, she threaded her fingers through his honey colored hair and tilted her head slightly in invitation. Surprised and pleased, Jack wrapped his arms tightly around her again. Their lips touched tentatively in several soft caresses until their kiss deepened...