Best Intentions

"Mom, can John come to lunch on Sunday?"

Sam looked up from the book she was reading. Chloe stood leaning against the back of a chair. "Not this Sunday, sweetheart. Maybe some other time."

"We could go somewhere," she persisted. "You don’t have to come if you don’t want to."

Sam studied her daughter. The girl was obviously up to something, but Sam couldn’t see what it was.

"Can’t I just go with John for lunch? Or something?" she asked again.

"Hey, Sam," Angel called suddenly from the kitchen. "Could you give me a hand in here? It’ll take just a sec."

Puzzled, Sam walked into the kitchen.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Angel asked. "Why it’s so important to her to have lunch with John this particular Sunday?"

More mystified than before, Sam looked at the calendar on the wall. It only took a moment for her to locate the date. It took a few more seconds to process what she was seeing. "Do you think she knows?"

"She’s eight years old, Sam. She knows."

"Why John?" she asked. She was almost certain that she knew why, but she needed Angel to confirm it.

"You’re kidding, right?" Angel stared at her. "Do you really not see it, or are you just ignoring it, Sam? Sometimes I think she spends more time with him than she does with either of us. He looked after her when she was sick. He helped her with her science project. He taught her how to ice skate. You even made him your proxy when she was in the hospital. Not Coop or Bailey or even me. You named John. You put him in this role. Whether you meant to or not, she sees how much you trust him, so she trusts him, too. Can you really say you don’t understand how she feels?"

No, Sam thought. I can’t. I understand exactly how she feels. She knew Angel was right. She had put him in this role, and he certainly hadn’t resisted.

And now, Chloe wanted to take John to lunch next Sunday. Sam wondered if he realized just how attached to him her daughter was.

*****

John arrived at the firehouse early.

"You look awfully spiffy for a trip to the Varsity," Sam said as he stepped in to the apartment. He looked down at his suit self-consciously. Maybe the tie was a bit much.

"I went to mass this morning," he explained with a shrug. "It happens every once in a while. Chloe ready?"

"John!" Chloe flew into the room and threw herself at him. He had to smile at her enthusiasm. He didn’t get this kind of reception from many people.

"Hey, Chlo. Ready?"

"Yeah!" She seemed unusually happy to see him. He glanced up at Sam, who looked vaguely troubled.

"Everything okay?" he asked her quietly as Chloe tried to drag him onto the elevator.

She made an obvious effort to smile a little brighter. "Just talk to me when you get back, okay?"

He nodded, but he didn’t understand. He let Chloe pull him in and punched the button for the garage.

"What’s going on, Chlo?" he asked when the doors closed. She merely grinned at him. "Fine. Don’t tell me." He looked up at the ceiling and shook his head while she laughed.

*****

Half an hour later John was setting their tray down on a table.

"Two all-the-way dogs, onion rings, and a frosted orange," he said. "Your mom is going to kill me if you get sick from all that."

"I won’t get sick," Chloe reassured him. "And Mom won’t kill you. She likes you." She giggled as he did something funny with his eyebrows.

"Whatever." He poked at his french fries. "You going to tell me what’s going on, now?"

"Nope. Not yet." She laughed again at the face he made. She liked spending time with John. It was one of the few ways she could go someplace without her mom that didn’t mean a bunch of FBI agents following her around. Sure, she knew John was an agent, too, but he was different. He did stuff with her because he wanted to, not because Uncle Bailey said he had to. He told her what to do more than any of the other agents did and he never let her get away with things that she could talk agent Tony or agent Melissa into, but that was okay. He treated her like a grown-up most of the time, too. And he listened to her. And sometimes he would sing to her like her daddy used to. She had a feeling that it kind of embarrassed him, but he did it anyway.

"Okay," she said as she wiped her fingers on a napkin. She had practically inhaled her hot dogs and rings so she could get to this part. Her stomach was a little wobbly and she hoped she really wouldn’t be sick from eating so fast. "I’m ready."

"For what?"

She dug it out of her small backpack and handed it to him. He looked at it blankly.

"A card? For what?" he repeated.

"Just open it."

He stared at his name on the envelope then finally turned it over and opened it. She watched his face nervously as he read the card. He looked up once in surprise after he read the front. She could tell by the way his eyes moved that he read the inside twice. She had the words memorized. She repeated them silently to herself as she watched him read.

Dads are like cars...
Some are sporty,
Some have style-
Some are cool,
Some make you smile-
Some are classics,
Some are new-
But special ones like YOU are few!
Happy Father’s Day!

On the blank part of the card she had written something of her own. She watched him read that, too.

Dear John,
Sometimes I miss my daddy very much. I wish he
could be here but I know he can’t. I am glad that
you are here now. Please don’t ever go away.
Love, Chloe

When John finished reading the card he looked up at her. He looked like he was about to cry. Chloe suddenly worried that she had done something very wrong.

"I’m sorry," she said quickly. "If you don’t like it…"

He shook his head and reached out to grab her hand. His mouth moved like he was trying to say something but she couldn’t hear him. He pulled her around the table and hugged her tightly. She guessed that meant he liked it.

"Thank you," he whispered. "That’s the best card anybody’s ever given me."

"So you do like it?" She had to know for sure.

He laughed. "I love it." He let her go and she went back to her chair.

"Does your mom know about this?"

Chloe shook her head. "I don’t think so."

*****

John set the card down carefully as if it was something rare and fragile. He hadn’t so much as seen a Father’s Day card in more than twenty-five years. He sure as hell hadn’t thought about buying one, and he was pretty sure that nobody was thinking about buying one for him, either. Well, nobody with his genes, anyway, he amended. Chloe beamed at him from across the table.

This is what she was so excited about back at the firehouse, he realized. And why Sam was so... Oh, God... Sam knew what today was. She had to. This had to be killing her, he thought. It was Father’s Day and her daughter was out to lunch with… It didn’t matter who he was. He wasn’t her father.

He couldn’t begin to imagine how rough this had to be for her. Chloe seemed happy to be here with him, but Sam… What was going through her mind right now? What was he going to say to her when he took Chloe back? ‘Had a great time. Sorry your dead husband missed it?’ Oh, yeah. That would go over well.

He watched as Chloe snagged a french fry off his plate. Somehow he’d figure out what to say to Sam. For now he would just enjoy being here for as long as it lasted.

He glanced around at the surrounding tables. He hadn’t noticed before but the greasy landmark restaurant seemed to be full of celebrating families. He wondered if that’s how he and Chloe looked to anyone who bothered to notice them. Just another dad with no concept of nutrition. Just another daughter glad to be eating out with her old man. He wondered how Sam was dealing with it right now.

*****

Coop dug through his pockets trying to find a piece of paper to wrap up his chewing gum. Should have spit it out in the parking lot, he thought belatedly. He gave up the search as the elevator stopped.

"Hi," he said as he stepped into the apartment. "I know I probably should have called first, but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop by."

"In the neighborhood?" Sam repeated. She looked more than a little surprised to see him. "I thought you were still in Washington."

Coop grinned broadly. "Obviously I’m not. I had a few days of vacation coming and I thought I’d spend ‘em down here."

"Oh."

It wasn’t exactly the response he had been hoping for, but it was close to what he had been expecting. That was part of the reason he had come. Sam was amazing. She was a terrific woman. And she was slipping away from him. Their long-distance relationship had been steadily crumbling for months now. He had hoped that taking his vacation in Atlanta might give them a chance to patch things up. With any luck, Malone would even send Grant to Minnesota or Nevada or someplace. The farther the better.

"Yeah," he said. "I thought maybe we could… do something. Dinner? A movie? Maybe take Chloe to Six Flags one afternoon…" He glanced around the living room. "Where is Chloe, anyway?"

"She’s… with John," Sam said slowly. "They went to lunch."

"Grant? Today?" His smile faded. She has to know what today is, he thought. Today, of all days, why would she let Chloe go with him?

"It’s just lunch, Coop."

"But it’s…"

"I know what today is," she said. "It was Chloe’s idea. She wanted to go with him."

Coop shook his head in disbelief. Couldn’t she see where this was heading, he wondered?

"It’s just lunch," she repeated.

"For now," he muttered.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

He stared at her. She was slipping farther and farther away from him. If he didn’t say it now there might not be another chance. He wasn’t giving up without a fight. "What it means is that you’re letting Chloe choose. That’s not the way it’s suppose to work, Sammy."

"What are you talking about?"

"Look, Sam, even I can see that Grant is good with kids. I can admit that he’s good with Chloe. And I can see that she thinks he’s the best thing since sliced bread… But that isn’t enough." He wasn’t sure that he was getting through to her, but he had to try. "In just a few more years Chloe is going to be gone. She’s going to grow up and leave. You’ll still be here. You can’t get involved with a guy just because your daughter likes him. He has to be the right guy for you. Not just for Chloe."

"I’m not involved with anybody," Sam said.

"I thought you were involved with me."

They glared at each other. He waited for her to speak. She could either tell him that their relationship still had a chance, or she could admit that something was going on with Grant. To his complete frustration she refused to say anything.

The hum of the elevator cut through the icy silence. They both looked toward the elevator as the doors opened.

"Uncle Coop!" Chloe cried when she saw him. "I didn’t know you were here."

"Hey, kiddo," Coop said. He tried to ignore the man who walked into the apartment behind her. "Just thought I’d drop by and surprise you."

"Chloe," Grant said. "Why don’t you and Coop play a game or something for a few minutes? I need to talk to your mom for a sec."

"Okay," Chloe readily agreed. "What game do you want to play?" she asked Coop as she headed toward the shelves.

Coop frowned as Sam motioned Grant into the kitchen. This was not what he had planned.

*****

John’s mind raced as he walked into Sam’s kitchen. What was Coop doing here, he wondered? Had Sam called him as soon as he and Chloe had left? Why was the guy in town, anyway? Didn’t they ever need him up in Washington anymore?

He was jolted back to his original dilemma by the sight of the calendar on the wall. "Lunch with John" was written in Chloe’s careful handwriting on today’s square. He took a deep breath and turned to face Sam.

"You know what today is?" he asked. Sam nodded. John shook his head. "I didn’t. I’m sorry, Sam. It just wasn’t a big deal in my family… ever. I just didn’t remember…"

"It’s okay," Sam said. "Actually, I should have realized that you probably wouldn’t have kept track."

"Really?"

Sam gave him a weak smile. "To be honest, it wasn’t a big deal in my family either…"

"No," John shook his head again. "You’re really okay with this?"

"I think so," she said. "It was her idea, John. She wanted to go with you."

"But it’s…" He stopped, unsure how to explain his conflict. He had thought about it all the way back to the firehouse. He hadn’t come up with anything coherent. On the one hand, he was honored that Chloe had wanted to spend this particular afternoon with him. On the other, he was terrified by the implications. He didn’t know what he was supposed to think, what he was supposed to feel. He didn’t have a clue. "…But it’s Father’s Day, Sam…"

"I know," she said softly.

He watched her straighten the placemats on the table. She pushed a falling strand of hair behind her ear and continued to smooth the perfect squares. She doesn’t have a clue how to feel either, he thought. This had to be rougher on her than on anyone and he didn’t know how to make it any easier.

"I’m not… I’m not trying to replace Tom," he said finally. "I couldn’t. If there was anything I could do to give Chloe her father back, to give you your husband back, you know I’d do it. But I can’t. I can’t do anything." He looked down at his hands and saw that his fingernails were digging into the wood of a chair back. "If you’re going to date Coop… or anybody," he continued, "and think having me around will confuse Chloe… I’ll … back off." He tried to keep the hurt out of his voice, but he knew he wasn’t succeeding. "I’d hate it… but I’d do it. If that’s what you want…"

"No." Sam shook her head. When she looked up at him he could see that her eyes were wet.

"I’m sorry, Sam. I…"

"Shhh… No. Stop apologizing," she said in a ragged voice. "You make my daughter happy. You don’t have *anything* to apologize for."

"But…"

"John…" Her voice cracked and she turned away from him again.

Without conscious thought he moved to wrap his arms around her. She wasn’t crying, but he knew that she was fighting hard. Her fists knotted tightly in his jacket as she pressed her forehead against his chest. The tension in her back and shoulders made his own muscles ache. He could feel her struggling to breathe evenly.

*****

Sam clung to John’s jacket fiercely as she struggled to hold back her tears. She felt his arms close around her. Waves of conflicting emotions washed over her. Guilt. Anger. Sorrow. Pain. Fear. She didn’t know which one was strongest. She didn’t know which one was right.

How could she feel guilty for being glad John was there and yet feel guilty for missing Tom, too? Why did she feel like she was betraying them both? It wasn’t fair. Why did she have to go through this? Why did Chloe? It wasn’t suppose to be like this. Her thoughts jumbled together as she tried to sort through them.

She could remember her first Father’s Day with Tom so clearly. Chloe had only been a few months old. Sam had bought a card and signed their daughter’s name. They had all gone to the park for a picnic. It had been a perfect summer day. Her life had been perfect. A perfect husband, a perfect child. She had never imagined that one day she would have to live without him.

After she had lost him she had never imagined that she could allow anyone to get that close to her again. It frightened her now to realize that John had the potential to do just that. She had fought so hard to go on without Tom. She didn’t know if she had the strength to do it again if anything ever happened to John. How could he even think he could walk away now?

As she stood in his protective embrace part of her instinctively knew that he could never just walk away. Not from Chloe. And not from her. If he could then he wouldn’t be standing here now. He couldn’t walk away… and she suddenly realized that she couldn’t let him.

At last, she lifted her head and pulled away.

"I’m okay," she said in an almost believable tone. They would talk later, she told herself. But now wasn’t the time, not with an audience waiting in the next room. "I’m okay… We probably ought to go rescue Coop."

A startled look flickered across John’s face. He had probably forgotten that Coop was still there, she thought. She could guess what he suspected. She knew he was wrong.

"Don’t worry about Coop," she told him. Yes, they definitely were going to talk later.

*****

The two men stepped warily into the elevator together. Sam had asked them both to leave. She and Chloe were going to spend a little quality time with each other for the rest of the day. John couldn’t blame them. It had been a stressful afternoon for everyone. He watched the lights change on the button panel and tried not to tap his foot. Three floors, he thought. You can survive three floors.

"It’s not going to work."

He turned to look at Coop in confusion.

"It’s not going to work," Coop repeated. "You think taking Chloe to lunch on Fathers’ Day is going to get you in good with Sam. It won’t work. Sam sees right through you."

"You don’t know what you’re talking about. It wasn’t even my idea." Don’t let him get to you, he told himself. Don’t listen. Don’t…

*****

"Mom?" Chloe’s voice had a worried edge to it. She stood beside Sam’s desk, watching the security camera. "Are John and Uncle Coop fighting?"

"What are you talking about, sweetheart?"

"Come look."

Sam came around the desk to look at the monitor. She stared for a moment at the unbelievable scene then ran to the elevator. She jammed at the button furiously until the elevator rose to the apartment level again.

Both men were oblivious to the doors’ opening. Despite Coop’s size and strength he was clearly outmatched. Apparently he had forgotten, or perhaps never known that the younger man had been a boxer. John definitely had the advantage in skill. Enraged beyond words at their inexcusable behavior Sam dug her fingers into the hair on the back of John’s head and yanked. With a roar of pain and rage he stumbled backward out of the elevator. Coop didn’t realize why John had stopped and began to move toward him again. He halted at the sight of Sam’s fierce glare. She still had her hand in John’s hair, forcing his head back at an awkward angle.

"What the hell is wrong with you two? " she shouted at them. "What could you have possibly been thinking? I assumed that you were at least mature enough to handle a forty-five second elevator ride together. I was obviously wrong. Not one word." She raised a hand to forestall anything Coop might have been about to say. "Get back on the elevator and leave.

When you’re gone I’ll send him," she gave John’s head a small shake and tried to ignore his wince. It wasn’t until the doors closed that Sam released her grip on John. His head dropped forward but he didn’t turn around. She moved to stand in front of him. For the first time she saw the blood flowing from a cut above his eye.

"You want to explain to me what was going on in there?"

He shook his head silently, miserably. His hand rose slowly to the back of his head as if he was afraid any sudden move would startle her into doing something else to him.

"Mom?"

Sam’s heart sank. In her anger she had forgotten Chloe. The girl was staring at them in wide-eyed horror.

"Are you mad at John and Uncle Coop?"

"Yes, sweetheart, I am." Sam knelt and took one of Chloe’s hands. "They’ve both done something that wasn’t very smart and I’m angry with them. But that doesn’t mean that we’re not friends anymore. It just means that we disagree about something."

"But why were they fighting?" Chloe’s troubled eyes flickered back and forth between her mother and John.

"I’m not sure," she replied. "I need to talk to John in the kitchen for a few minutes and then I think everything will be okay. Can you go play in your room for a little while?"

Chloe nodded. Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks but she turned and walked down the hallway toward her room. As she passed Denzel she grabbed the dog’s collar and pulled him with her. Sam stood and faced John. He still hadn’t looked up.

"Kitchen," she told him. "Now. I don’t want you bleeding on my carpet."

Almost in surprise he touched the cut on his forehead. She heard him suck in his breath. It was apparently deeper than he had realized and his fingers had forced it open even wider. He looked blankly at the blood covering his hand but gave no indication that he intended to move. In exasperation Sam put a hand on his back and propelled him toward the kitchen. It took a hand on his shoulder to push him into a chair at the table. He sat silently as she wrapped an ice cube in a washcloth and handed it to him. She was too frustrated to sit with him so she paced.

"Now, do you want to tell me what that was all about?"

The man with a snappy comeback for every situation offered nothing. It seemed he had decided that his silence would do less to infuriate Sam than his usual defense. She was glad he wasn’t going to hide behind humor, but she needed him to talk. If he wasn’t going to help her she would voice her own suspicions.

"He accused you of using Chloe to get to me."

His head shot up. "Sam, you know I would never…" he choked.

"I know. I know you couldn’t love her more if she were your own flesh and blood and you would never do anything to hurt her." She stood still to look at him. "Do you know why you’re sitting here bleeding in my kitchen?" she asked as he dropped his gaze again.

"Because you’re mad and want to yell at me." He sounded like a lost third-grader.

"Yes, I’m mad. I’m furious, John. At you, at him, at myself. But that’s not what I’m asking." At his blank look she continued. "Do you know why you are here? And why Coop is in his car?" She looked down at the pain in his face and saw that they were on completely different wavelengths. He was afraid that he had done something irreparable to their friendship. I’ve spent so long pushing him away, she realized, that he doesn’t understand now. "This isn’t about Chloe at all, John. Coop is in his car because Coop and I are over," she said. "He was angry and I’m sorry he took it out on you." She watched in fascination as a myriad of emotions flashed behind his eyes.

She took a few steps toward him.

"And you’re here because you’re always here," she told him. "You’re here when I need a shoulder or a sounding board. You’re here when I need a push of encouragement or a good swift kick. You’re even here when I just want you to go away and stop making my life so complicated." She almost laughed at his baffled expression. He still wasn’t sure what she was trying to tell him. "You’re here because you’d put Chloe’s well-being ahead of anything you might want. Because you’d rather be miserable than interfere with something that you thought was making me happy. Because you think that ‘O, Canada’ is a lullaby and put…"

"You heard that?" He looked at her in astonishment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. Of all the things I’ve said, she thought, that’s the one thing he hears. She reached toward him and pushed her fingers through his short hair with a touch infinitely more gentle than she’d used before. His eyes widened in surprise as she sat in his lap and rested her arms on his shoulders.

"How can anyone not love a man who puts Lucky Charms in hot chocolate because he can’t find the real marshmallows…"

"Lucky Charms are real marshmallows. It says so on the box."

"John," Sam said patiently, "you are listening to the wrong part of the sentence." She wasn’t certain that he understood until his arms finally tightened around her.

"If I’d known that," he said softly, "I would have made hot chocolate for you years ago."

She touched his forehead near the cut. "I’m sorry Coop did this to you."

"He didn’t," John grinned suddenly. "I hit it on the call box when the elevator stopped."

"Mom?" Chloe stood in the doorway looking at them hopefully. "You’re not mad at John anymore?"

"No, sweetheart," Sam smiled. "Not very mad at all."