Page 51 of One Last Gift

Two Months Later

Chapter Twenty-Three

The sound of Sam’s phone, which he’d taken to setting to loud after his mum had panicked when he hadn’t called her back recently, pulled him out of a deep sleep and he groaned, fumbling around for it. Sheila, from the youth center. What the hell was she doing calling him at this hour? He checked the time before he answered. Five a.m. He wasn’t supposed to be up for another hour, and even that was early.

“Hello?” His voice was still husky from sleep, and the sound of the AC whirring away—a necessity during a New York summer, he now knew—almost drowned it out.

“Sorry for calling so early,” Sheila said. She had her brisk “work voice” on, one that she reserved for journalists, parents, or possible investors, he’d learned, in the two months he’d been working for her. “But I got some bad news last night. Some of our funding’s being pulled.”

Sam flipped his bedside light on—some fancy designer one. He’d been staying at Toby’s apartment in Brooklyn since April, though he was insisting, much to Toby’s chagrin, that he at least pay rent. “That’s…That’s not good.” It was too early to come up with anything more articulate. “I’m so sorry, Sheila.” He wasn’t sure why she’d decided to wake him to tell him this, rather than filling him in later, but he genuinely meant it.

“Yes, well, the thing is…” She blew out a breath. “The thing is, Sam, it means I can’t afford to pay you anymore.”

“Oh.” So, she was firing him over the phone? Despite the fact he’d not been there long, despite the fact he’d always known it could never last because of the visa situation, he couldn’t help but be a little hurt by that.

“I don’t want to let you go. Truly. But—”

“It’s OK. I get it. Do you still want me to come along today?”

There was a pause that went on too long. “Well, that was why I was calling…”

He didn’t need her to spell it out. “You can’t cancel the trip!” he exclaimed. “The kids have been looking forward to it for ages.” And he’d spent ages setting it up, not that that was the point. More of the kids had gotten into bouldering since he’d been there, and so he’d asked if he could organize a climbing trip to the Gunks—the Shawangunk Mountains just outside New York. He’d heard the kids talking about it for weeks now.

“I just don’t know how we can afford it,” she said with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I really wish—”

“You don’t have to pay me,” Sam said quickly.

“That’s not—”

“And you can use what you haven’t paid me from May to put toward it.”

Another long pause. “Are you sure, honey?”

Sam smiled as he settled down against his pillows. The “honey” was a sure sign he’d gotten through to her. “Definitely.”

“Well, all right then.” That was the good thing about Sheila—she never said no to charity. He supposed she’d have to be like that, given her job. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours, then.”

—

“That’s right, Liam,” Sam said calmly, watching his skinny frame as he rappelled down the cliff. “You’re almost back now.” Sam saw Liam glance behind him, checking how close the ground was, saw his legs tremble, just a bit. Despite the bravado that Liam liked to put on, the refusal to ask for help or advice, Sam knew the kid was nervous, running on adrenaline from having completed his first proper outside climb. He coached him all the way to the bottom, knowing that sometimes people were tempted to come down too fast when nice and slow was better and safer. The other seven kids they’d brought were behind him, watching.

Liam’s grin when he hit the ground was priceless, and Sam felt his own grin match it. Liam looked up the sheer rock drop he’d just gotten up and down, hard gray stone towering up, with green leafy trees hanging over it. Even though it was a beginner climb, it was still a beauty. Liam turned to Sam, unclipping his rope as Sam had taught him and slipping off his helmet, revealing hair slick with sweat. No wonder—the heat was immense, and Sam was sweating even just belaying. Sam held his hand up for a high five and Liam didn’t even roll his eyes as he returned it.

“Good job, mate.” Liam laughed as he rejoined the group, everyone getting to their feet to head back to the parking area for lunch.

Sheila handed out packed lunches when they got back to the minibus and they spread out on some picnic benches, glugging water gratefully. The kids headed off in the other direction from where he and Sheila were making camp, and Sam heard Sheila tell them all, “Thirty minutes, you hear me?”

Even here, in the parking lot picnic area, it was beautiful: tall, leafy trees that provided much-needed shade from the beating summer sun merging into a forest that looked like something out of a movie set. And even though he couldn’t see the mountains, it was like he could sense them, their presence too big to ignore. Three hours outside New York, and it felt like a different world. If someone had told him three months ago that he’d be teaching a bunch of teenagers he barely knew how to climb at the Gunks, he would’ve told them to piss off. Not least, he knew, because of the reminder of Tom. Yet here he was.

Sheila groaned as she fell onto the bench next to him, and Sam tossed her a bottle of water. “You’re a legend, Sheila.”

Sheila’s smile was one of the most genuine he’d ever seen—and like her laugh, it was infectious. “This was all you, honey,” she said in that brilliant New York accent. “And look,” she continued, gesturing to where the kids were now laughing and eating, their expressions maybe not the easy, carefree ones that some people their own age wore, but at least, Sam liked to think, slightly lighter than usual. “It’s been a success, right? Been good for them. Good for you too, I’d say.” She gave him a look before she bit into her sandwich. “It’s taken away a few of those demons, I can see it.”

Sam fought the urge to grimace. He supposed she was right. Focusing on other people had helped him to climb out of that dark hole. But still, it made his stomach feel a little tight. Had he done this for the kids? Or to prove something to himself?

Sheila gave him another look—she was good with her looks, was Sheila. Her dark eyes were wide and expressive, and her eyebrows had degrees of up and down that he’d never seen before. “It doesn’t mean it’s not a good thing to do, even if it was for you too,” she said evenly. “Things don’t need to be completely selfless to still be doing something good for someone else.” Not just observant, Sam thought, a bloody mind reader. It was kind of eerie sometimes.

She glanced over at the kids. “Liam, do not throw that there.” She got to her feet, walked a few meters toward them.