A/N: DO YOU GUYS GET NOTIFICATIONS (of updates)? Some have said they do not get them... so I was just wondering? 

Chapter 18 – The Truth Has More Sides. Father Figure. (Faith POV) Pt. 2

Looking out the window where I was seated just gazing out the light drizzle I saw Kalenah rush out of the house into her car. Sighing, I closed my eyes, wondering what would be coming next? I mean I just didn't know right now and that didn't sit right with me. I couldn't remember enough of my past, I couldn't explain how I ended up with Dmitri, but I could remember knowing I had to escape after Cynthia and Andy left me.

Had I ran away? Was I given to Dmitri? I couldn't remember Cynthia coming back for me, or ever seeing Andy again, just them, a horrid voice belonging to a scary man, and Dmitri. That was all.

Wallowing in thought, a short ramp on my door brought me back to here, "hey Fatima, its Samson I brought us some tea," uncurling myself I went to the door opening, to see Samson with two mugs of peppermint tea. A small smile on his face, "You pick?" he holds out both cups for me to pick on and just like the shrimp when I point to the one on the right, he simply takes a sip before handing it to me. Moving aside I go to sit on my bed, and he sits on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

Not wanting to discuss my past I was just going to say that when he spoke first, "I – well – I – before you told me about your past I was going to ask if you wanted to go to Eugene with me tomorrow, just for a day out of the house, out of Bend, if – if you wanted," I sat stunned waiting not sure where Eugene was.

"What will we do?" I hear myself asking, but this is the 'what comes next' I was looking for. The small smile on Samson grows and all his teeth are shown, his eyes even seem happier somewhat, excited. "Well I was thinking that we could go to a museum and then M.E.C.C.A. – which is a place where you can exchange and find materials for artwork, they have workshops and we could look around, have lunch and dinner in the city if you want, or just walk around... or maybe do some shopping because it's getting colder out and you don't really have warm clothes... just – I just wanted to offer you a chance to get out and relax," he frowns after his long speech.

"Although," he pauses worried, "There – there will be lots of people around, we can – I mean maybe do something with fewer people around, if that's a problem – but I would never let anyone hurt you, Fatima," he swore.

"I'm not afraid to be around people," I told him honestly, because I wasn't, but I always had this unease in my stomach.

Samson nodded, and for the first time since I took the mug from his hands, I brought it up to my lips inhaling deeply, before taking a small tentative sip. With my eyes closed, I could almost imagine being back in the safe house although this was altogether different. I wasn't alone. I wasn't pining away watching out the window, wondering what was going on, on the outside.

I was on the outside.

When my eyes finally opened I found Samson gazing at me, his eyes screwed up, and features looking otherwise thoughtful. Caught staring at me, he cleared his throat and looked away, a light shade of red coating his ears.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" the words are out before I can even filter them, "I mean you make my tea and bring it for me, you talk to me," I continued now that I had spilled milk on my hands.

Samson shrugged, "At first," he swallowed bringing his mug down in front of him, his left pointer finger tracing the circumference of the top, "I wanted to apologize for how I behaved that day in class," my eyes went up to his face, glancing between his finger and expression. But when I saw his finger tremble I focused solely on his face.

"I – it is not an excuse, but that day," his voice went thick and he stopped talking, "I had a twin," he whispered a few beats later with a heavy sigh like it pained him to reveal that to me.

Had. He had a twin? I finally listen to his words and in the silence, my filter vanished again.

"I know, I called him twin Samson," his head snapped up and eyes confused, spurring me on to explain with heated cheeks. 

"You – well you were mean to me and then you wanted to cook and then you brought me food, and I thought that it wasn't you that it was twin Samson," he bites his lip looks away and for a minute I think I've said the wrong thing, that maybe I should've remained silent, but Samson barks out a loud gut clenching laugh. Howling, he laughs until water drips down his face; while I sit stunned unsure of what was so funny? Or why he was crying and laughing at the same time?

.

.

.

Ansel Conrad POV

I watch my lovely Kalenah reverse from the lane, her eyes still holding some leftover sadness. When I can no longer see her car, and I know that she's arrived at the guesthouse, I turn away from the window, in two minds.

This could not be happening, I thought as I replayed the last two months over in my head my loyalties already stacked with the girl that my wife clearly adored.

The same girl that Samson was clearly enamored by... shaking my head, a smile plays on my lips when it came to Samson and his connection, the allurement he had to that girl. As with my other children, I would never stand in the way of someone they sought out, especially not when it was heartwarming to watch their interaction. Samson was my softer-hearted son, yet in two short months, I watched a new type of strength build inside him, a determination of sorts.

One he'd need if my instincts of his growing feelings were spot on.

Still in the kitchen, lost in my thoughts over Cynthia, Andy, my brother Danny and Faith, I do not even realize I've been approached until my eldest son Brennan has come over and is standing right beside me, his eyes filled with worry. "Mom okay?" he asks, my heart filling at his concern. Nodding, I smile at him softly, "yeah, she's fine she just wanted to discuss something-"

"About Faith?" Brennan interrupts.

No need to lie, I think but still hesitant, my response or lack thereof only worried Brennan. Running his hand over his short brownish blonde hair, "Is it Sam?" he whispered, "Did he get hurt looking for Faith?" again concern dripping from his tone.

Shaking my head, I hold out a hand, palms out, "No – no. Nothing is wrong, mom really just wanted to check in with me... with so many of you guys here, Faith and Samson, your mom too, are staying out at the guest house tonight. Mom just wanted to check in, Brennan, really," I say sternly. Sighing, Brennan's shoulders sag as he nods, "Okay, wow... just yeah... okay," he swallows, holding back whatever he was planning on saying to me, stammering instead. The kids, all of them, even my youngest Amy and Simon, all had questions when it came to Faith, but after weeks of us telling them, warning them not to pester us or Faith, now, we just had these types of impasse minutes.

From what Kalenah had told me, Faith had divulged a wealth of information to Samson. Which I guess is not altogether surprising when we really thought it over. I think the surprise was how soon Faith opened up, rather than, who... the other children seemed to give Faith a berth of space whereas Samson was like a dog with a bone.

He knew where Faith was at all times and he was always there with a cup of tea.

Did Faith even like tea? Really like it? Or was she accepting it because Samson brought it up to her?

Then again, at this point, I knew that the tea was only an excuse to see the poor girl that hid up in our attic like some type of bat. And there was no way I was going to put a stop to Samson seeking her out, not when from the looks of things, Faith somewhat appreciated or at least put up with Samson pursuing her.

If only to make Faith feel as though we wanted her here in our home, and also to keep this...difference... this change... in Samson developing. He was not an open book – now – by any means, but at least he did not just linger in the background, watching others. I roll my eyes, no now he was watching one girl... all the time. Not much better in the grand scheme.

"Dad!" Brennan snapped in front of my face. Blinking, I shake my head, concentrating, "Are you sure nothing is up?" he asked less convinced.

Gazing past my son with less knowledge of the puzzle that was Faith Ashlynn, I only sighed, "We did check with you all when we decided to let Faith come and live with us, and..." I heart grows heavy, "She's had a rough start and things might only get bumpier, but mom and I did not quite know what we were getting involved in when we made that decision, completely. We had our hunches," I say truthfully, talking around major revealing points. I wouldn't give away Faith's history when she did not want that when Samson and Kalenah had worked hard in gaining her trust to get that information.

"You mean that she has shitty parents," Brennan spit shaking his head, "I mean we get so much as a cut," he points to the now jagged but raised skin on his neck, an injury he sustained when he was camping before his change. "Just this and mom was at my side," his eyes go out of focus, "but she gets burned, cuts the bottom of her foot, then gets sick and has a concussion and her parents don't come," his eyes wide, find my own.

"What are they doing that is so much more important than any of those things?" I'm sure I have a shocked expression on my face because while the kids have had this discussion amongst themselves, this is the first time that one has openly commented like this. Or maybe it was just the shock and disgust in Brennan's tone that was catching my full attention.

I remain quiet letting Brennan rant on these two people that do not exist in the sense that he believes. Faith was not created from Immaculate Conception; she was created from two people though they were not parents that my son imagined. One of the two contributing portions was quite possibly Cynthia, and if we had to go by what Faith was remembering, Cynthia wouldn't know to come running.

Or... I shake my head, not wanting to leap to conclusions either way. I was on Faith's side no matter what, but a large part of me was hoping that this was just a misunderstanding despite all the pieces slapping me in the face. 

.

.

.

——————-

© 2016 roxann_season All Rights Reserved

Do you want more Ansel? I'm trying to make this story more rounded and fluid, not by adding POV's exactly but by adding actual content, and Ansel is a POV I wanted to add in because he's one of the more supportive fathers in the series. (I mean one word: Pat). 

What do you guys think? 

.

.

.

Don't forget to check out my facebook authors page:

facebook.com/roxannseason

and my website:

roxannseason.com

.

.

.

later guys. 

I'm going to end my night by reading 'For The Love of a Wolf' by SummerCo.