A Tutor for Samuel Pt. 02

Linda had turned up the private drive, and she nodded toward her parent's house.

"That much."

"Holy shit..." whispered Sam staring at the biggest house he had ever seen in person.

"How many families live here?"

"Just mine."

"Did you ever get lost as a kid?"

"Once or twice," she admitted pulling the car to a stop.

Linda turned in her seat, "Please don't be intimidated. At the end of the day, their still just people. My dad puts his pants on one leg at a time just like you."

"Are you sure? It looks like he could pay to get someone to do that for him."

She put her hand over his, squeezing it gently.

"Just be yourself. I know if given a chance, they will be just as smitten with you as I am," offered Linda while secretly hoping her dad didn't eat Sam alive.

"What did you tell them about me?"

Linda hesitated, and Sam immediately picked up on it, "You didn't mention my age."

"Trevor knows, but...no...I didn't get a chance to tell anyone else."

"Um...You probably should have been upfront with them. This is going to feel like an ambush from their perspective."

"Maybe...," she conceded, "I could have done this better, it's true, but it shouldn't be that big of a deal. I mean, you've always said my age doesn't matter to you, so if my family cares about me, it won't matter to them."

Linda managed to say the words with a conviction that she, herself, was certainly not feeling.

"I hope you're right."

Lizzie answered the door on the first knock, and if she was surprised upon seeing Sam for the first time, she didn't show it.

"This strapping young fellow must be the boyfriend Trevor was going on about?"

"Sam Morrison. It's a pleasure," said Sam offering Lizzie his hand to shake.

"No, Sir! That will not do! You get in here and give me a proper hug."

Sam quickly found himself crushed to Lizzie's more than ample bosoms while the large woman gave him a powerful squeeze.

"It's wonderful to see you two together. What a gorgeous couple y'all make," observed Lizzie as she pulled away. Sam's face reddened with embarrassment, but he tried to take it in stride.

"I think Linda takes care of the looks department. I'm just here to open jars and lift heavy stuff," he joked.

"Don't sell yourself short, Killer. Linda's descriptions did not do you justice," said Trevor, descending the stairs to join them.

Linda had warned Sam about her flamboyant brother, and he just smiled at the remark.

"You must be Trevor, Linda's told me some stories."

"Horrible exaggerations, I'm sure," laughed Trevor, shaking hands with Sam, "I never tied her to chairs and left her to free herself, or stole her stuffed animals and hid them in out of the way places."

"You did both those things!" protested Linda.

"Don't let her kid you. She volunteered to be tied up. Linda was convinced when she was ten that she was going to be a great escape artist like Harry Houdini, but all she ever did was struggle for a few minutes and then scream until I let her go."

"I got out a few times."

"Only when I made the ropes so loose anyone could have wiggled free," said Trevor with a wink in Sam's direction, "So, does she still...like to get tied up?"

"Trevor!"

"You don't have to answer. I can tell from her blush..."

Lizzie clapped her hands together to break up the banter.

"You folks best head out onto the patio. You don't want to keep your parents waiting."

The three of them fell in together, walking through a house that dwarfed any that Sam had ever been inside. He tried valiantly not to be thrown by the trappings of wealth, but it wasn't easy.

The sun was setting, but it was still hot outside. Sam felt sweat break out across his forehead, but it was only partly from the heat. His first view was of a woman that looked like a more compact, petite version of Linda, which he rightly assumed to be her mother. Marion Siler was facing sideways, talking to a much taller man with close-cropped dark-brown hair and the steely eyes of a predatory hunter. Sam felt a shudder pass through him at how much this gentleman reminded him of his own father.

"Mom, Dad, this is Sam," said Linda calmly.

Marion, to her credit, managed to hide any adverse reaction beyond a slightly raised eyebrow as she took Sam's hand in her own.

"Sam...it's nice to meet you...you're uh...well...you're so welcome in our home," she managed to say. It was clear she was fighting not to mention how young he looked.

If only her father had shown such restraint.

"Is this your idea of a joke, Linda?" he asked in a deep baritone, "I have to say, I never did understand your sense of humor."

"It's not a joke, Dad. This is my boyfriend, Sam."

Sam tried to ignore the sudden tension and stepped up to the bigger man, hand extended outward.

"Sam Morrison, Sir, it's a pleasure to meet you."

For a space of several seconds, Sam's hand hung in the air untouched. Linda's father eyed it with distaste as if Sam might have something catching, but at last, years of carefully ingrained manners took over, and he took it in his own, however reluctantly.

"Thank you for inviting me to dine with you," offered Sam, hoping to elicit a verbal response from the imposing figure who was scrutinizing him like a bug under a microscope.

"You're more than welcome," cut in Marion when it appeared that Linda's father would never speak.

"Right...Sam, is it? James Siler," said the big man at last.

He released Sam's hand, but his expression didn't change.

"Mr. Siler. You have a very impressive home," remarked Sam hoping to push past the awkwardness and get some kind of conversation going.

"It's been in my husband's family for several generations. They trace their lineage back to the original colonists," said Marion.

"Is that right? Wow!" said Sam, honestly impressed.

"How do you know Linda?" rumbled James suddenly.

Before Sam could answer, everyone heard Trevor mumble, "babysitter?" under his breath.

Sam swallowed hard, thinking the real answer didn't sound much better.

"We were neighbors," cut in Linda.

"I used to spend time at the telescope with Linda back in the day," said Sam, not mentioning he had been all of twelve-years-old at the time.

"Are you an astronomy professor as well?" asked Marion.

"No...I took a class once, but my interest is more in the form of a hobby."

"What do you do for a living?"

There was another awkward pause, and Sam decided to bite the bullet and get things out in the open.

"I don't have a job. I'm a full-time student at Whitmore."

"In the doctorate program?" asked Marion hopefully, while Linda rolled her eyes at her mom, going to that well again.

Sam smiled wanly, "In my second year. I'm a sophomore."

This piece of news drew a scowl from James, who was clearly waiting for the punchline to a joke that wasn't coming.

Thankfully, before anyone could ask a follow-up question, Lizzie appeared in the doorway to call everyone to dinner.

Linda took Sam's hand in hers as they walked back toward the house.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered to him.

He merely raised an eyebrow at that. Things certainly didn't seem like they were headed in a good direction.

The Siler dining room looked like something out of a stage production of "Camelot." The enormous oak table was very spacious. James walked to the head of it, fixing Sam with a glare that made him want to slip underneath the tabletop and not come out until the meal was over.

Two servants came in carrying trays of food and moved in concert around the table, laying out steaming bowls of soup. Sam eyed the milky liquid curiously, glancing at Linda, who mouthed back, "clam chowder."

"When in Rome," thought Sam tasting some for himself.

It was a bit salty, but not too bad.

"Something wrong with your soup?"

Sam looked up, thinking the question had been directed at him, but James was looking down the table at his son. Trevor pushed the bowl back, making a disgusted face.

"I never did care for clam chowder."

"We can get you something else, Dear," said Marion.

"The boy needs to eat what's put before him," grumbled James, "I don't like seeing good food go to waste."

"I'm not a child, Dad," snorted Trevor.

"When you behave like one, that's how you'll be treated."

Trevor met his father's steely gaze with one of his own. The tension in the room ratcheted up quickly.

"I've never had clam chowder before, not exactly a west coast dish. It's pretty good, though, maybe a little salty," cut in Sam.

His sudden comment distracted everyone as he had intended.

"It's a New England staple. My mother used to make homemade chowder when I was growing up," said James, scooping another spoonful into his mouth.

"With my mother it was homemade pasta. She used to roll her own and make the most delicious Italian dishes."

"She doesn't anymore?" asked Marion.

Sam ducked his head slightly, running his spoon through the steaming liquid in front of him.

"My...my mother passed away when I was a teen."

"Oh...I'm sorry, Dear," said Marion awkwardly.

The room got quiet, and Sam berated himself for bringing up his mother. He had only meant to turn the conversation away from Trevor, not make things even more dreary for everyone.

"What are you studying at Whitmore?" asked James at last, breaking the silence.

"Technically, I'm a business major, but I'm thinking of changing to something in the sciences."

Linda looked up from her soup bowl in surprise, "You never mentioned you were thinking about changing."

"I had this mentor that opened my eyes to the wonders of the universe," replied Sam with a sly smile.

"Ha! You'll be joining a long line of starving scientists if you take that route. Best to stick with your first instinct."

Linda had begun to return her boyfriend's smile, but her face fell at her dad's words.

"There's more to life than adding more money to your bank account," she said quietly.

"Spoken like a true liberal arts major," laughed James.

"Why do you always have to put her down? So she didn't want to spend her life moving piles of money around. Linda's smarter than anyone of us in this room."

Jame's eyes flashed at the challenge in Trevor's tone.

"Your father was teasing her," said Marion, trying for a laugh that quickly faltered when she realized she was the only one making a sound.

"You have some room to talk. At least Linda has managed to get by on her own. I'll give her that much. While Trevor over here...Well, you seem to have no compunction about siphoning money from your trust fund."

Trevor scowled and sat up taller in his chair. It was obvious to Sam that he was witnessing an old family quarrel about to flare up again, and he mentally struggled for a way to deflect the conversation yet again.

A knock at the front door saved him the trouble. They distantly heard Lizzie answering it, and the sounds of laughter and conversation in the hallway before a new face joined them.

"Look who came to dinner afterall. I'll send out another bowl of soup," said Lizzie, moving in the direction of the kitchen.

"Gina! I didn't think you were coming tonight," said Marion, standing to embrace her eldest daughter.

"I heard that my dear sister was back in town. It's been a long time, Linda."

"Not long enough."

Linda's reply, said quietly to the floor through clenched teeth, didn't reach Gina's ears, but Sam heard it clearly and winced.

He watched as his girlfriend scooted her chair back and came around the table to face her older sibling. The one who had made a game out of ruining her life.

"So...this is the infamous Gina," he thought.

There were times in the recent past when Sam had tried to imagine how Gina would look. From Linda's descriptions, he had pictured a cross between a Greek goddess and a particularly nasty vampire. It turned out; he hadn't been as far off the mark as one might guess.

Gina was beautiful. There was no denying that.

Several inches taller than Linda, she stood on a very toned pair of long legs. The kind a woman got from spending hours on the treadmill. They vanished into a short, black, designer dress that had been altered to accentuate every curve of Gina's shapely figure. Her skin was fair, bordering on alabaster, with a translucent quality that made her appear almost inhumanly perfect without a mole or a freckle to blemish it.

The dress had been cut to tastefully, but very obviously, show off her large, firm breasts, bigger than Linda's by at least a full cup size.

Yes, there was a lot to physically appreciate about Gina Siler, but when he reached her face, he felt an unease settle over him. Not because she wasn't attractive, quite the contrary, her face was just like the rest of her a vision of beauty carved from ivory. Gina had the high cheekbones and full lips of a makeup model, the latter covered with a dark lipstick that contrasted brilliantly with her skin tone. Her shoulder-length hair was a deep shade of mahogany brown that perfectly set off her green eyes.

No, Sam's unease came from the lack of warmth he saw reflected at him.

Gina was smiling, but the expression didn't reach her eyes and would have died there even if it had made the journey. She had eyes like her father, the baleful gaze of a predator that measured each moment by its need to devour the weaker beings in its path.

A vampire indeed, cold and calculating, waiting to feed.

"Hello, Gina."

Linda stopped just out of her older sister's reach, not affording her the opportunity to pull her into a conciliatory hug. Her tone was wary, laced with the pain from their last encounter, however long ago. Gina managed to manufacture an expression of sympathy, eyes welling at the corners with tears.

"Oh, Linda. If I had a dime for every time I've thought about what a terrible thing I did to you. I know you can't forgive me. Hell, I can't forgive myself. I've thought about what I would say to you if I ever saw you again, but words don't seem adequate. Is there any chance, any at all, that you could find it in yourself to allow me to mend the distance between us?"

It was a carefully rehearsed speech. Gina adding just the right amount of sadness and a hint of trembling fear to her voice.

Linda didn't speak. She just stood and fixed her sister with a stare that betrayed nothing of what she was thinking.

"I think it would be wonderful to see you, two girls, getting along again," prodded their mother.

Sam shook his head slightly. He knew Linda well enough to catch the flicker of resentment in her eyes. She might not dwell on what happened between them anymore, but she wasn't ready to forgive.

"Oh...please, Linda. Tell me we can try?" begged Gina.

Before she could answer, Gina suddenly threw herself into Linda's arms, sobbing softly. It was an award-winning performance, and Sam saw Trevor miming a slow clap as Linda awkwardly held the bigger woman.

Marion Siler jumped up from the table and joined her girls, embracing both of them.

"It does my heart good to see you two willing to put your differences behind you," she said, nearly weeping herself.

Linda turned her head just enough that Sam could read the look of disdain that was plastered there. Gina wasn't fooling her one bit.

"Your soup is getting cold," said James from the far end of the table, clearly uncomfortable with all this emotional nonsense.

Gina pulled herself away, and with a last pat on her sisters back, she came around to take a seat to Sam's left, stopping to reach out a hand.

"Gina Siler. You must be Linda's boyfriend. Mom mentioned you on the phone."

Her smile seemed almost genuine this time. A gentle pulling back of full lips from perfectly white teeth. Sam shifted in his chair, not entirely able to suppress a very male reaction to the voluptuous and attractive Gina. Her eyes roved across his young, very firm body, and he saw a glint of desire light her dark orbs.

"It's nice to meet you," he stammered, fighting a rising nervousness.

Now he knew what a trapped animal felt like before being devoured by a hungry beast.

"I hope you enjoy lamb chops, Sam. It's one of our chef's specialties," said Marion.

Grateful for an excuse to tear his eyes away from Gina, Sam nodded at Linda's mother.

"Sounds delicious. Thanks."

"Dad said you were out on a date last night. Who was the latest victim?" asked Trevor.

Gina laughed, "Garret White. His parents own that company in Boston that makes custom made yachts. All he could talk about was boats. It was boring."

"So he didn't rate the full treatment. Just a hand job then?"

"Trevor! I will not have that kind of trash talk at my table! Apologize to your sister," snapped James.

"Sorry," he said with a sly grin that said he didn't mean it.

If Gina was offended, she didn't show it, and Sam got the feeling this kind of banter was typical for these two. He quietly wondered just what sort of bizarre family dynamic he had wandered into here.

The main course arrived, and the conversation dropped off as everyone concentrated on their food. Sam didn't mind the silence, and the food was genuinely excellent. He surveyed the table between bites, noting that Linda was avoiding making eye contact with her sister.

"So, I hear there's going to be a party?" commented Gina to the room.

"Oh! Yes! Lizzie and I are working up something to celebrate Linda's return home. I'm sure you would want to help," answered Marion.

"Of course! I would love to pitch in. We should have a band and an open bar, maybe?"

"Because loud music and alcohol go over so well with you. I still remember you throwing up all over Aunt Bertha at my twenty-first birthday party," laughed Trevor.

"Jesus Christ! I'm trying to eat here!" complained James.

Gina winked at Trevor before turning her attention back to Sam, making him squirm in his chair.

"How about you, Sam? Do you like a good dance party? Got any moves you want to show off?"

"I'm not much of a dancer; I'm afraid."

"Oh! That's okay. I used to dabble in choreography. I would be happy to teach you."

"I've seen the kind of dancing you're best at, Gina. I think Sam would rather you keep your clothes on," said Trevor.

"That's it! Trevor, you can leave this table," said James in a tone that offered no hope of negotiation.

Trevor didn't argue; he just wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin, and with one last smile at everyone gathered around, he departed whistling to himself as he went.

"Even in silence that kids a smart-ass," grumbled James.

Dessert was some flaming dish that Sam had never heard of, but it did have a wonderful flavor if a bit too sweet for his palate.

When the last plate was cleared from the table, the servants came out to offer coffee to anyone who wanted it. Sam was thinking about having a cup when Linda's dad stood up and motioned in his direction.

"Sam, why don't you and I take a little walk. I'd like to get to know you better."

Nervously, Sam scooted back from the table, and with a worried look at Linda, he fell in behind the imposing back of James Siler.

The older man led him through a maze of corridors deeper into the mansion. Though he had offered this walk as a way of giving them time to talk, James never spoke a word content to plod along quietly until they reached a pair of heavy, wide, oak doors. The room behind was an office with bookcases lining the walls and a giant wooden desk covered in papers and manila folders.

James took a seat, pausing to pull a cigar from a box on the corner of the desk and making a big show of snipping off the end and lighting the tip. A cloud of pungent smoke surrounded his head while he stared at Sam without offering him a seat.

"Nice office," said Sam at last.

"What's your game, Kid?"

"I beg your pardon?"