A/N: As I'm studying 'Now and Then' in English, I'm fast becoming obsessed with the film. I suppose this obsession is also fuelled by the fact that I liked this film in the first place. Sam's mum, in particular, has always intrigued me- especially the night that Ted leaves (before the second séance over Dear Johnny's grave). The way she stood outside Sam's bedroom, just sort of looking in, but not going, as though she could sense the barrier that was between them- that was the real Sam's mother, not the woman who flirted scandalously with Bud on a first date and who dressed like Nancy Sinatra.

Note, I don't own 'Now and Then'. I don't own Sam, I don't own her mum- to put it simply; I don't own Shelby, Indiana. All I own is the computer in which I am typing this story. (Yes, I own a computer! Yay!) This is yet another unbeta-d piece of work. Un-betaed? Unbetad? As such, I'd really appreciate all reviews. Thanks for taking the time to even get past this massive author's note, and I hope you enjoy the fic! If you don't, just drop a line and say way.

I peer in from the doorway. You lie in bed, your blankets pulled up to your serene face- but I know. I know you are awake, I know you saw your father leave.

With this, our relationship is changed now. You will not trust me as you were once able, and neither can I open up to you. What I'd do to make you understand! I stare at the wall in front of me, unable to find the words. What can I say, that will make things right?

The truth is, I can't.

Oh, Samantha, there is so much more in life than what you've seen. You've lived a sheltered life- you know it as well as I. But shelters can't save you from a storm that rocks from beneath.

Don't think I'm not hurt, my darling. Don't think I haven't felt the pressures, haven't wondered what I'm doing to you and your sister. Don't think that Ted and I haven't tried to make things work out, because we have.

You lie with your face slightly inclined to the wall, and the moonlight plays gently on your cheeks. That same moonlight saw your father leaving the Gaslight Addition. That same moonlight, so deceptively gentle, has taken your world, and shaken it around, tipped it upside down, and left you.

You will not forget it. I will not forget it. Yet we cannot share our grief- it is that which tears us apart.

I will never forget what your father once was to me, nor will I forget what he has become. I cannot forget what he gave me, because one thing he gave me was you, another, your sister. If only you could understand that!

But because I know I can do nothing, I silently close the door to your room and walk away.

Before I enter the solace of my own room- mine now, I cannot say "ours" now that Ted is gone- I hear something like a quilt being thrown backwards, something like a young girl escaping from a window.

I wish I could escape like you can. I pray that you'll forgive me.

I love you, Samantha. I hope that one day, you'll realise that I always have, and I always will.