Sam.

~~~

The pilot's announcement broke our moment, letting us know we were beginning our descent. The cabin buzzed with activity as passengers stirred, gathering their belongings. I glanced out the window, my breath catching as the sprawling cityscape of New York came into view, glittering like a sea of jewels beneath the night sky.

"We're really doing this," I whispered, more to myself than to Ray.

His hand tightened around mine. "Yes, we are. And it's going to be amazing."

The wheels touched down with a gentle thud, and a ripple of applause spread through the cabin. I smiled, feeling a tentative sense of peace settle over me. As the plane taxied to the gate, I looked at Raymond, who returned my gaze with an unyielding confidence that made my chest tighten in the best way possible.

The mid-November air was a stark contrast to LA, the familiar scent of New York—an odd mix of asphalt, exhaust, and something indefinably electric—hit me as we stepped onto the jet bridge.

Ray stretched beside me, groaning softly. "There's nothing like New York, is there?"

I breathed deeply, letting the cold air fill my lungs. "No," I said, a smile tugging at my lips. "It feels like coming home."

As we wove through the bustling terminal, we spotted a man holding a sign with "Morris" printed in neat block letters. He was an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair and a kind smile.

"Mr. Lawrence, Ms. Morris," he greeted warmly, doffing his chauffeur's cap. "Welcome back to New York. I'm Charles, and I'll be your driver today."

"Thank you, Charles," Ray said warmly as he shook the chauffeur's hand.

Charles led us to a sleek black sedan waiting at the curb, its polished surface gleaming under the glow of the terminal lights. As he loaded our suitcases into the trunk with practiced efficiency, I slid into the backseat, sinking into the smooth leather. The scent of clean upholstery mingled with a faint hint of cologne, a welcome break after the stale air of the plane.

I grabbed a water bottle from the mini bar in front of me, twisting off the cap. The pain in my shoulder was dull but persistent, so I popped a pill into my mouth and chased it down with a long sip of water.

Charles settled into the driver's seat and glanced at us in the rearview mirror as we pulled away from the curb. "How was your flight?"

Ray draped an arm around my waist, his presence solid and grounding. "It was good, thanks. A bit long, but we're just happy to be here."

I nodded, watching the city come alive outside my window. New York's chaotic rhythm was already coursing through my veins. "I can't wait to see my grandmother."

Charles's smile appeared briefly in the mirror, warm and knowing. "New Rochelle isn't far. You'll be there before you know it."

The city lights danced across the window as we drove through Manhattan, illuminating everything from towering skyscrapers to bustling street vendors. Charles kept up a lively commentary, sharing snippets of history and pointing out landmarks. His voice was soothing, almost melodic, as he spoke.

Before we knew it, "We're almost there," Charles announced, his voice pulling me from my thoughts.

My heart thudded in my chest as we turned onto a familiar street. Memories flooded back at the sight of the sprawling garden surrounding my grandmother's house. It looked exactly as I remembered—majestic yet welcoming, with ivy climbing the stone walls and still vibrant bushes swaying in the breeze. The car came to a stop, and I couldn't contain my excitement.

"Ready?" Ray asked, glancing at me with a smile that mirrored my own.

"Ready," I said, my voice breathless.

Charles opened my door, and I stepped out, the warm evening air wrapping around me like an embrace. My heart raced as I hurried up the stone path, Ray close behind me with his hand resting on the small of my back.

The door swung open. There she was—Grandma Rose. Her kind eyes sparkled, and her smile radiated pure joy.

"Grandma!" I exclaimed, rushing forward to envelop her in a hug.

"Oh, Sam, my dear!" Her voice was filled with the kind of love that wrapped around you and never let go. "It's so good to see you."

Her frail arms held me tightly, and I felt the familiar ache of longing and gratitude swell in my chest. Behind me, Ray lingered, giving us a moment before stepping forward.

"And you must be Ray," Grandma said, her gaze shifting to him with curiosity and warmth. "Samantha has told me so much about you." Ray extended a hand, but Grandma bypassed it entirely, pulling him into a hug. "Please, call me Rose," she said, her voice soft and affectionate. "Welcome to our home."

Ray chuckled, a bit startled but clearly charmed. "Thank you, Rose. It's an honor to meet you." He looked at me with pleading eyes, unspoken confirmation that he would try his best with my grandmother's condition.

Charles brought our luggage to the porch. "Where would you like these, Ms. Morris?"

"Just inside the door is fine, thank you, Charles," I replied, still beaming.

He nodded, placing the bags neatly in the entryway. "If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you, Charles," Ray said, shaking his hand again. "We appreciate it."

Charles tipped his cap and returned to the car, leaving the three of us standing in the glimmer of the porch light. I took Ray's hand, pulling him inside. The house smelled just as I remembered—a mix of chamomile tea and a faint trace of wood polish.

"Come on," I said, my excitement bubbling over. "Let's go to the garden."

Raymond followed me through the house, his footsteps light but sure. The tree leaves varied in orange, green, and yellow colors just as the sun started to dip below them. Grandma joined us, her steps measured but determined. Her eyes scanned the garden with a mixture of pride and longing.

"We should wait for your grandfather," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "He would love to meet Ray."

My chest tightened. "Grandma, Grandpa passed away last year. Don't you remember?"

She blinked, her expression clouding with confusion before settling into quiet acceptance. "Oh, yes. I remember now." Her voice grew wistful. "He used to spend hours out here, writing and taking care of those rose bushes."

I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "I remember. He always told the best stories."

The three of us stood there, the garden's beauty enveloping us, as the evening settled in. For a moment, it felt like time itself had paused, holding us in the tender grip of shared memories and quiet hope.

Grandma's smile softened, her eyes growing distant as if the memories were flickering in the darkness. "He did. And you, my dear, have inherited his gift. I'm so proud of you."

A lump rose in my throat, thick with emotion. Her words wrapped around my heart, tender and affirming. "Thank you, Grandma. That means everything to me."

I watched her closely, marveling at how lucid she seemed. Her eyes held the sharpness of the past, a glimpse of the grandmother I grew up with. I knew this moment was precious, fleeting even, and I promised myself to savor every second.

We settled into the cushioned chairs near the pool, its surface shimmering under the dim lights. The intoxicating scent of roses wafted through the air, nearly drowning out the faint tang of chlorine.

Ray approached us, his smile warm and genuine as he admired the garden. "This place is incredible," he said, taking the chair beside me. "I can see why you love it so much."

Grandma's face lit up with pride. "Michael—your grandfather—planted most of these flowers. He had a green thumb and an even bigger heart, especially when it came to roses."

I nodded, my voice soft as the memory unfolded in my mind. "He planted them for you, Grandma." I smiled, recalling the scene vividly. "I remember helping him with the roses. He used to say they were your namesake, his tribute to you."

Ray's gaze drifted to the nearest rosebush, its blossoms a deep, velvety red with barely any hints of withering. "He had great taste," he said, reaching out as if to feel the petals. "They're stunning."

Grandma reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on mine. "Just like our Samantha," she said, her voice thick with affection. "You've inherited so much from him—not just his gift for writing, but his strength and kind heart."

"Grandma..." My voice trailed off, choked by the weight of her words.

Her eyes locked onto mine, brimming with tenderness. "It's true, my dear. Your grandfather would be so proud of you too."

Ray, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke. "You've raised an amazing granddaughter, Rose," he said, his voice full of gratitude.

Grandma's smile widened, softening as she turned to Ray. "And she's found herself a wonderful partner. Thank you, Ray, for taking such good care of her."

Raymond shook his head slightly, a crooked smile playing on his lips. "She takes care of me just as much, if not more. We're a team."

Grandma's eyes glistened, the emotion in them unmistakable. "That's what family is for," she said softly. "To lift each other up, especially during the hard times."

A comfortable silence settled over us, broken only by the chirping of birds in the distance and the gentle rustling of leaves overhead. I leaned back in my chair, letting the peace of the garden seep into me. It was a calm I hadn't felt in what seemed like forever.

Grandma's voice cut through the quiet, her tone laced with curiosity. "What happened to your shoulder, dear?"

I straightened, forcing a smile to cover the pang of unease that her question stirred. "It's just a sprain, Grandma," I said lightly, glancing at Ray for reassurance. His eyes met mine, calm and steady, offering unspoken support.

Before Grandma could ask more, Amber appeared from the house. Her usually composed expression was pinched with concern, her thin eyebrows drawn together. "Excuse me, Mrs. Morris, Samantha, Ray," she began softly, her voice apologetic. "I need to speak with Samantha for a moment."

I looked at Ray, who gave me an encouraging nod. "Go ahead," he said. "I'll stay here with Rose."

Standing, I gave Grandma's hand one last squeeze. "I'll be right back, Grandma."

Amber led me toward the house, her sneakers scoffing softly against the stone path. I glanced back once to see Ray leaning toward Grandma, his expression thoughtful. As we almost disappeared inside, I caught a snippet of their conversation.

"Sam has been through so much lately," Ray said, his voice low but filled with emotion. "I'm just glad she has you."

Grandma patted his hand gently, her gaze distant but wise. "She's a strong girl, Ray. And she has you. I never believed she and Tom were meant to be," she said, her tone resolute.

"Thank you for saying that, Rose," Ray replied, his tone lighter now, a small smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.