I’m finally revisiting the characters from The River City Chronicles nine years after their original timeline. I’ll be running the series weekly here on my blog, and then will release it in book form at the end of the run. Hope you enjoy catching up with all your faves and all their new secrets!
Today, Sam visits an old haunt, and is haunted by what he finds….
< Read Chapter 36
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Chapter Thirty-Seven
Old Haunts
Note: The dialogue in this chapter is in Italian, but for my English readers, most of it is being presented in English.
It had been an early morning.
Carmelina and Daniele left at the crack of dawn to pick up Gio and head to the airport for the long trip to Italy.
Sam had gotten up with them, sharing a cup of coffee and some memories with Carmelina in her kitchen, while Oscar dozed on, oblivious, in the guest room.
It had been strange sleeping with someone else, even if it was only sleep. For the past nine years, it had been Brad at Sam’s side at night, having his warm back to snuggle with, his light snores a reassuring beacon in the middle of the night.
Once Oscar had woken up—at the reasonably decent hour of 7 AM—he and Oscar planned the day together. It had been a veritable Where’s Where of Sacramento landmarks, starting with breakfast at Orphan. The cash-only East Sac institution had added on a beautiful patio since he’d moved away, marred only slightly by the Sacramento curse of being unable to create any outdoor space that wasn’t two steps from a noisy, busy street.
After breakfast, they hit Capitol Park, leaving the rental car and taking advantage of the beautiful day for a walk through the rose garden and some of the memorials on the grounds.
They’d touched the bear in the Capitol itself, and laughed at all the county displays down one of the main halls. They’d even peeked into his old office, where he and Brad had worked for the Senator when they’d first met. She was long gone, replaced by a Democrat, which gave Sam a burst of satisfaction. Brad would have loved it too.
They detoured over to the new DoCo—Downtown Commons. Brad had snickered at the pretentious name for a stadium and a fancy food court, constructed where the rundown old Downtown Plaza mall used to sit. Somehow, the planned gentrification around it had never really taken hold, and it was still surrounded with unsavory blocks of run-down mid rises, trash in the streets, and homeless tents.
The ballpark looked fancy, though, bright and new and shiny. They even checked out a few of the restaurants, but they were all super expensive.
He’d planned to have lunch at Lucca, and had been devastated to find out that it was closed. They passed by the once-vibrant restaurant with its gorgeous side patio, and Sam almost cried when he saw the boarded-up windows and the graffiti that marred the outside. He had so many fond memories of the place, and now it was lost to time.
Instead, they ended up at Mayahuel. He was happy to see that the Mexican restaurant not only had survived the pandemic, but seemed to be thriving. The cream of poblano soup was as divine as he remembered it, and he felt a little piece of home return to his heart.
The afternoon was spent at the Crocker. He’d always loved Sacramento’s own local art museum. There were so many things to see, but the one that caught his eye like no other was a life-size sculpture of a young girl in a drab floral-print dress.
She was a little stocky. Her shoulder-length red hair was faded, lying flat against the back of her head, and the wallpaper behind her mimicked the dress, so much so that she seemed to fade into it. But it was the donut in her hand and the look on her face—a little guilty, a little sad—that rivetted him in place.
He saw so much of himself in the piece, a young kid, trying to fade into the background. And his donut was the thing he’d desired most, but was also most deeply ashamed of.
Oscar had squeezed his hand, knowing without saying what he was feeling.
Now they stood together in front of the last place on the day’s itinerary, before dinner. “This is where the magic happened, huh?”
Sam nodded. He stared at the two-story Victorian he and Brad had bought together, almost a decade before. The place looked much the same, and yet different. The new owners had refreshed the paint, going from gray and purple to a more understated white with gray trim. Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Sam? Is that you?” An older man shuffled down the steps of the blue Victorian next door, noticeably shabbier than Sam and Brad’s old home. Like its owner, the place had seen better days.
“Jim?” A thrill ran up his spine, and he approached the man and gave him a big hug. “I didn’t know you still lived here.”
Jim huffed. “Been in this house thirty-nine years. Ain’t going until the last breath leaves my body or they carry me out on a stretcher.” He looked at Oscar. “Hello. I’m Jim Oberkrom.”
Oscar flashed him a bright smile. “Oscar Rivas. Friend of Sam’s.” They shook hands.
“Nice to meet you, Oscar.” Jim looked around. “Where’s Brad?”
Sam closed his eyes, the question tugging on the pain he’d stuffed down deep inside. “He… he passed away, last week. We came home to spread his ashes at Effie Yaw.”
Jim’s face sank. It was the face of a man who had seen too many friends die. “I’m awfully sorry about that.” He pulled Sam in for a hug, squeezing him tightly in trembling arms. He looked so much older than the silver fox Sam had known when they’d lived here before.
“Thanks.” There was still a grim unreality to it all. Like, at any moment Brad would call or text him. Sam would forget that Brad was gone for five or ten minutes at a time, but then it all came crashing back.
“Would you like to see the inside?” Jim gestured at their old house.
Sam blinked. “Oh, I’m sure the owners wouldn’t want to be interrupted.”
“Pish. They’re on a Caribbean cruise, and left the keys with me to water their plants. I was just headed over there. Come on. It won’t do no harm.” He started to climb the steps, much slower than Sam remembered.
He glanced at Oscar, who shrugged. Your call.
Resigned, he followed his old neighbor up the stairs and into the house.
The first thing that struck him was the smell—sandalwood, a crisp, bright aroma, but not the old homey smell the place used to have, the product of flowers and waffles and laughter.
The warm hardwood floors had been replaced with a sleek gray laminate. The walls were a stark white, decorated in perfectly placed intervals with black and white photos of buildings.
The furniture, too, was monochrome—a black sofa, white ottomans, and gray bookshelves filled with gray books.
The only pops of color were from a large ficus in the middle of the living room, and a bright green fern on the dining room table.
Even the kitchen had been gutted, turned into an open-plan space, with gray cabinets and a white quartz countertop.
Jim must have picked up on his unease. “Yeah, I know. These new folks come in and rip out the heart and soul of a house, replacing with hospital chic.”
Sam snorted at that one. “It’s… different.” Everything that had made it a home—his home—was gone. Sweat beaded his brow. He wiped it away with his sleeve.
“Wife’s an architect and husband’s a lawyer of something or other. No kids.” He shrugged, as if he had a hard time understanding that. “Want to see upstairs?”
His heart was racing. “No, I don’t.” He turned and bolted out the door, out into the fresh evening air. He made it down to the sidewalk and bent over, resting his hands on his knees, panting heavily.
Footsteps sounded behind him, and then Oscar’s warm hand caressed his lower back. “You okay?”
“I feel like I’m having a heart attack.” His chest hurt. His brain hurt. All of him just hurt.
Oscar pulled him up, into his warm embrace. “Breathe, Sam. Take a deep breath with me. In. Hold.”
Sam did as he was told, taking a ragged breath.
“Now exhale slowly, and in again.”
Together, they found a rhythm—in, hold, slowly out.
The panic began to recede. His heart slowed in his chest. He lost track of how long they stood there together, but it was long enough for Jim to feel the need to clear his throat.
“Thanks.” Sam hugged Oscar tight, then let him go.
Oscar just nodded.
“Sorry, Jim. I couldn’t—”
Jim waved it away. “Say no more. When I lost Sadie, I used to wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing. Thought I was gonna die.” He looked up toward the sky wistfully. “Some nights, I wish I had. Then one night, she was there at the end of the bed. All bright and glowing-like. Now don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe in ghosts and all that paranormal shit. But I figure she came down to check on me and let me know she was all right. She leaned over—pretty as the day we first met—and kissed me on the cheek. Then she was gone.” He shook his head, a bemused expression on his face. “I haven’t had a panic attack since.”
Sam nodded. He’d seen things too. Brad had come to him at the ash scattering… or had it just been a hallucination?
Either way, his husband was gone, and he was never coming back. I have to face that.
“Want to come upstairs to my place for a drink?” Jim put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I can water the plants later.”
“Thanks, but I think I need to get away from here.” He glanced up at the old house, now someone else’s, and remembered something Brad had said to him when they had first moved in.
“We don’t really own this place, you know. We’re just borrowing it for a bit. Once we move on, it will become someone else’s dream.”
And now it was. There was a certain comfort in that sense of continuity.
Jim nodded. “I understand. Well, stop by for a bit while you’re in town, if you have time. You and your friend here are always welcome.”
This time Sam gave him a hug. “Thanks, Jim. I’ll give to a call.” Knowing full-well he wouldn’t.
As he and Oscar said their goodbyes and walked away, Sam knew it was the last time he would ever see the old house.
It was someone else’s dream now.
< Read Chapter 36
Like what you read? if you haven’t tried it yet, check out book one, The River City Chronicles, here.