Masterpiece

"You're joking, aren't you?" I asked.

"Halfway," she said, stretching beautifully on the massive bed. "Maybe she'd be inclined toward a part-time arrangement. Say, I get you for six months and she can have you the other six."

"I don't think that's going to happen," I said.

"I'm willing to share," Sam groused. "What the hell does she want, anyway?"

"Okay, now you really are joking."

"I suppose so," she said, rolling over to look in my face. "But, I do like having you around. I feel so serene and comfortable." She kissed my lips lightly.

"That's just because you know I worship you," I said.

"Do you?"

"You're a masterpiece, remember?"

"That seems so long ago," she whispered.

"I'm sorry you feel so unhappy," I said quietly. "I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Perhaps there will be," she responded. "The day may come when I will need you. Will you be there for me?"

"I'll do whatever I can," I promised.

The thirty-minutes it took Deanna and me to drive to our home was silent. Deanna wore the clothing Sam had loaned her the night before, her blue gown hung under plastic in the back seat. Sam's loan of the clothes was an unspoken affirmation of our verbal promises to see each other again.

Still, two weeks passed without a word from Nick or Sam. The telephone call came through at 7 p.m. on a Tuesday night. It was Sam.

"Can you come to the house?" she asked.

"Of course. Is there something wrong?"

"I'm afraid so." She sounded sad. "I didn't know who else to call, really. I think I'll need to draw on some of your strength."

"Should I bring Deanna?" I asked.

"Yes, of course," she said. "If you must."

"What's happened, Sam? Can you tell me?"

"It's Nick," she said. "He's been arrested."

"They caught him shoplifting?" I asked her.

"No, darling," she said. "Embezzlement. It's really serious. I think there going to put him away for a long, long time."