Take Care, Sara by Lindy Zart_ 14 page

“Because of Lincoln.”

Something in his tone made her glance at him; the flatness of it maybe. “Are you mad that he saved me?” Incredulity made her voice higher than it usually was.

Cole scowled, dropping his arms from her. “No.”

“Well, that’s good, because the alternative was drowning.”

The scowl deepened. “I know. It’s just…I’m supposed to save you, not him. I’m supposed to be there for you, not him.”

“You were too busy having fun driving the boat and trying to dump us,” Sara snapped.

“I know. I’m an ass.”

Her anger faded at the look on her husband’s face. It was full of self-recrimination.

“And proud.”

He nodded somberly. “That too.”

She felt herself soften toward him, as she always did. Cole looked so young, so pitiful. “I still love you.”

Cole looked up, flashing a grin brighter than the sun. “Good to know.”

“But if I was dead, I wouldn’t.”

“I’d still love you if I was dead,” he retorted, trailing a hand along her hip and causing her to shiver.

“Okay, you two, it’s fun watching you almost making out and everything, but can we get going?” Spencer asked from where he lounged on the seat, Gracie beside him.

Cole moved to captain the boat and Sara walked toward Lincoln. The boat lurched forward as it accelerated, Sara grabbing the ledge to steady herself. She adjusted the yellow swim shorts as she neared him, tightening the straps of the turquoise bikini top. He didn’t look at her as she approached, his cool gaze trained ahead.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, sitting in the seat next to him.

Lincoln glanced at her. “I was scared out of mind, Sara, when you went under and I couldn’t see you. I—“

“Earth to Sara.” She ran into Lincoln’s chest, his hands steadying her as he set her back. “Sleepwalking again?”

She shrugged, her face burning. I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you. That’s what he’d said. She hadn’t wanted to think about what it could have or could not have meant at the time. Sara wasn’t inclined to think about it that much now either. And yet…why had he brought up that day? Was he trying to tell her something without telling her something? Was she looking into it too much? Did he want her to remember what he’d said? Did Lincoln remember what he’d said?

“Why that day, Lincoln?” she pressed. An icy sharp wind started, tousling her hair around her face. Sara impatiently pushed it behind her ears, not letting Lincoln look away.

His neck convulsed as he swallowed. But he didn’t look away. Lincoln’s eyes were zeroed in on hers, looking at her in a way that made pressure form in her chest. “That was the day things changed for me.”

“Meaning?”

Lincoln finally looked away, tapping a pad of paper against his thigh. “Do you remember what I said to you, after it happened?”

Sara wasn’t prone to lying. She didn’t like being lied to and she didn’t like doing it to others. He was so intense, so still as he waited, like what she said mattered astronomically to him. Lie, Sara. For him. For you. Lie.

She opened her mouth—

“Yoo hoo! Mr. Walker!” a short, stout lady with graying blond hair called, waving from the barn entrance. She had on paint-splattered jeans and a blue flannel jacket.

Lincoln sucked in a lungful of air, giving Sara a wry glance. “There’s the possible client. Better say hello.”

He strode toward the middle-aged woman and Sara followed, frowning at the realization that she didn’t think she could lie to Lincoln. Not about something that seemed so important to him. Not about anything.

She found him by the stream at the back of the house. It was still winter, but March was on the horizon and that let Sara think maybe the snow wouldn’t linger too much longer. Still, she was glad for her winter coat, gloves, and boots as she made her way through the foot of packed dirty snow. Spindly trees surrounded them, caked with white. The sun was behind clouds, casting grayness to the air that Sara imagined would resemble her heart if it were to be cut open. Icy, gloomy, numb; that was her. Broken. Splintered. Oozing sorrow like a shallow wound oozed blood. Only her wound wasn’t shallow; it was bone deep, right into the marrow.

Lincoln’s head was uncovered and the gentle breeze played with his dark waves. He wore jeans, boots, and a black sweatshirt. His head was down and she wondered what he was thinking about. Her eyes drank in the sight of his strong frame. He was more muscular than his brother had been; taller.

“Did you get the job?” Sara asked his back.

He slowly turned, no surprise showing on his face at her presence. She was sure he’d known she was near; he always seemed to know when she was close. Lincoln’s eyes went up the length of her until they connected with hers. Heat swept through her and Sara crossed her arms, looking at the slowly trickling stream of water. Most of it was frozen, but there were patches where water weaved through the ice.

“Of course I got the job.” His tone wasn’t arrogant, simply matter-of-fact.

“So…what are you doing?” Sara asked, not sure what to say. Just his nearness had put a crack in the numbness that was her. Maybe that was why she’d ended up at his place when she’d decided to go for an aimless drive. Lincoln was able to take the emotionlessness away.

“I’m wondering if I have it in me to swim across the massive body of water before me.”

The stream was about six feet in width. Sara looked at it and couldn’t help the snort of humor. Lincoln was taller than it was long. “I don’t know, Lincoln. I’m not sure you’re up to it.”

“Are you saying you doubt my masculinity?”

“You could just lie across it and call it good.”

It was his turn to snort. Lincoln glanced at her, a smile teasing his lips. “Now what would be the sport in that?”

Sara took a deep breath of frozen air, the air so cold it was hot inside her mouth and throat. “I remember what you said.”

He stiffened beside her, his expression giving away nothing. “What do you mean?”

“On the river, two summers ago, what you said. A few weeks ago you asked me if I remembered. I did. I do.”

Lincoln stared down at the ground. “It doesn’t matter.”

“But it must. I mean—you wouldn’t have brought it up otherwise, right? Is it supposed to mean something? I don’t understand the significance of it. Or maybe I do, but I don’t want to. Or…not. I don’t know what I’m trying to say.” Sara sighed and faced the wood house.

“It was nothing, Sara.”

He was lying to her. Sara turned her head so she could see his profile. He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, as her eyes perused the side of his face. “It was something,” she clipped out.

“You’re right. It was, but…” Lincoln sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?” She waited for his answer, wondering why she was having such a hard time sucking air into her lungs.

His eyes fixated on her; there was something about the endless gray depths of them; the way they smoldered like smoke from a fire, mysterious and magnetic. “I’m trying…so hard…to do the honorable thing, Sara,” Lincoln said, his voice harsh with emotion.

She frowned, moving back a step. “What do you mean, Lincoln?”

“I feel like Jekyll and Hyde most times I’m around you.” He studied her face. “You must think I’m crazy.”

“Right now, at this moment, yes, I do,” she said.

Lincoln didn’t laugh; he didn’t even smile. “When you want something so bad, when you deny yourself it, day after day, for so long, after a while, you ask yourself why you’re even doing it. You hope it will fade and die; you hope your secrets won’t be revealed, because it wouldn’t just kill you if they were, but it would kill other people as well. So you forsake yourself for the greater good, but sometimes, most times, it’s too much of a burden, Sara. Do you know what I’m saying?” he asked slowly.

She backed up another step, shaking her head. “No. I don’t,” she said, her voice cracking.

“Sara.” Lincoln moved for her.

Sara put a hand out. “Don’t.” She spun around, hurrying up the hill. He called after her in a ragged voice, but she didn’t pause, didn’t turn around. Tears, warm and unwanted, trickled down her face and her chest hurt so bad she wondered if she could pass out from it. Whatever he was trying to tell her, she didn’t want to know it. She couldn’t know it.

***

As soon as the door opened, she blurted, “I’m sorry.”

He blinked tired eyes at her, moving away from the door to let her enter. “For what?”

“For the other day, when I left. I’m sorry. And also, for now, for showing up so late and unannounced. It’s almost ten at night and you probably have to work tomorrow.” She was shivering, partly from the cold, partly from the words that had haunted her since the minute Lincoln had spoken them.

Lincoln groaned, rubbing his eyes, making them redder than they already were. “Oh my God, Sara, I’m so sick of hearing you say that. I don’t want your apologies.” He turned away from her.

“Then what?” She swallowed; eyes on his tense back. “What do you want?”

He swung around, locking her in place with his gaze. “Do you really want to ask that?”

Sara backpedaled from the power of Lincoln’s gaze, from the ferocity of him. “I don’t know what you mean.” Yes, you do. She felt like she was playing a game and one false move and she would lose. But it wasn’t a game; it was their lives.

“You always say that. But I think you do.” He cocked his head. “Maybe you just don’t want to.” Lincoln stepped toward her. “I’m sick of this, Sara. I’m sick of you blaming yourself, I’m sick of seeing you hurt like you do. I’m sick of pretending, I’m sick of being your buddy when all I want to do is…” Lincoln pressed his lips together, shaking his head.

Sara sucked in fast breaths, her hands opening and closing at her sides. She showed Lincoln her back, his words incomprehensible, the look in his eyes undeniable. Sara closed her eyes against it, but it was burned into her retinas. She couldn’t make it unseen. She couldn’t remove it from her mind.

“I saw you first,” whispered through the air.

Sara stiffened, her heart immediately beating too fast. She kept her back to him. “What?” came out strangled.

“I saw you first. Only days before he did, but I still saw you first. I was walking in the woods and I saw you along the road. Your hair was in a ponytail and it bounced against your back as you walked. You had on jeans, white tennis shoes, and a pink hooded sweatshirt.

“The sun made you glow like an angel and something happened in my stomach. It felt like the air was knocked out of me and it was a kind of sick feeling. You stopped to look at some purple flowers, picking one to tuck behind your ear.” He inhaled deeply, his voice ragged when he continued, “The next time I saw you, you were with Cole, and that was that. But I saw you first, Sara. And when I saw you, I knew you were meant for me. I’d never felt like that before and I’ve never felt like that since. I tried to deny it, I tried to forget you. Every woman I dated; I hoped she’d be the one to take the place of you in my heart. Only it never worked. Not even the fact that you were my brother’s could make it stop.

“The guilt I felt, have always felt, it’s torn me up inside. The anger and resentment I’ve fought against every day since that first day I saw you with him; at myself, at Cole, at fate. It hurt every time I saw you hug or kiss, because I wanted to be the one doing the hugging and kissing. The way you looked at him…I wanted that for me as well. Wanting my brother’s girl, wanting my brother’s wife; what kind of horrible person was I? Didn’t matter. I kept wanting you.”

She couldn’t breathe. Sara was struggling to breathe and nothing was happening. She wanted him to stop, to shut up, to quit saying the words he could never take back, the words that could never be erased once spoken.

“Then the wreck happened and the guilt became too much, because, sometimes, I’d thought about if Cole wasn’t around, maybe it would have been you and me. Not that I’d ever wanted anything bad to happen to him, but just, like if he’d moved away, or was married to some other woman. I never would have wanted to happen what did, but sometimes, in the back of my mind, I wondered if I was to blame. Maybe it was my fault, somehow, for wanting the woman I could never have. And the pain of losing him was horrible, agonizing, but the thought of losing you was unbearable.

“The worst thing is…after everything…I still want you,” Lincoln ended softly, his voice raw, pained. “I saw you first, but you never saw me. Never have. Not even now.”

Sara closed her eyes. The air shifted behind her and she felt his heat seep into her back and knew he was close. “Don’t. Lincoln, I can’t hear this,” she said, her voice cracking.

“It’s already done. I can’t stop. I won’t stop,” he said raggedly. She felt the feather light touch of his hand as it brushed hair away from her neck and Sara shivered. “I’m done stopping, Sara. See me. Please. Just once. Turn around and see me.” His hand wrapped around her upper arm and slowly turned her around. Sara kept her eyes closed, not strong enough to accept what she knew she would see in his eyes.

“Look at me. Look at me, Sara,” he commanded, his fingers digging into her shoulders.

Sara mutely shook her head, tears dropping from her eyes and falling down her face. Her heart hurt from the tightening in her chest.

“Look at me,” he pleaded.

The entreating note in his voice was too much and Sara could no longer deny him his request. She finally did. Sara looked at Lincoln. Her eyes drifted over his lowered eyebrows, his intense gray eyes, his straight nose, and stopped on his full lips pressed together. The tightening in her chest and heart deepened. God, he was beautiful. Lincoln was wrong. She saw him. She had for a long time. Sara just hadn’t been able to acknowledge it to herself.

“Cole had it all. Good looks, easy-going manner. He was the well-behaved one, the quiet one, the one that didn’t blow a gasket at the slightest provocation. There was the slightly reckless side to him, but nothing too major. He got decent grades and didn’t get into too much trouble. I was never jealous though. I never felt less than. He didn’t let me. I never wanted what he had.

“Until you.” Lincoln’s fingers tightened on her arms. “You I wanted. And that was the first and only time I was jealous of Cole. I’m still jealous of him. I’m jealous of my brother, who’s dead. How fucking sick is that? I can’t stop it though. I can’t stop the way I feel about it, about you. He still has you. The only thing, the only person, I ever really wanted, and you’re his. Still. Always. You never see me, not even with him gone.”

“I see you, Lincoln,” she told him softly.

His features tightened, his laser gaze locked on her. “What do you see, Sara? Tell me. Tell me something.”

Sara opened her mouth, but nothing would come out. Her pulse was racing and she knew if she voiced her thoughts, nothing could go back to the way it used to be. Maybe it couldn’t already anyway. Maybe that was done; those people she and Lincoln used to be no longer existed. The way Sara was now, the person standing before her; that was who she and Lincoln were now, be it good or bad, wrong or right.

Her stomach dipped. “I…Lincoln, I have…feelings for you. I don’t know how that happened or when exactly, but it did. I don’t even know what they are, but I have them. Do you know how that makes me feel? Horrible. I feel like a horrible person. I just know…I can’t turn them off and I wish I could and I don’t even understand what they are, not really. It scares me. I’m scared.” Sara’s eyes burned and her throat tried to close.

Lincoln slammed his fingers through his hair, messing the waves up. His eyes were pained, his mouth turned down. “How do you think I feel? He is…he was…my brother. I’ve wanted you since the day I met you. How do you think that makes me feel? I’m torn up inside, Sara. My insides are ravaged and ruined and I don’t care. I don’t care. All I know is it hurts to look at you and it hurts even more not to. I need you. I need you.

“It doesn’t matter that he’s my brother, it doesn’t matter that he is…was…your husband. It doesn’t stop me from needing you. I see you when I wake up, I dream of you, I see you in every woman’s face and I see you in the sky and even the grass. You’re everywhere. You’re everything. That’s all that matters. You’re all that matters. So hate me. Never speak to me again. Doesn’t matter. I’ll still need you. I’ll need you till I take my last breath and I’ll need you even after that,” he panted, his chest heaving up and down.

“Stop, Lincoln, don’t.” He was making it worse. She couldn’t hear anymore. It hurt. Her heart was breaking, hearing the words pouring from Lincoln, hearing the conviction in them. This was wrong; it had to be wrong.

But he wouldn’t stop. Maybe he couldn’t. Lincoln continued, relentless. “All those times I wanted to hold you, all those times I wanted to pull you into my arms and couldn’t, not the way I wanted to, not the way you needed me to, but would never admit; it killed me, Sara. It’s still killing me. I want you for mine. I want you always.

“I started to slip up. These last few months…I couldn’t stay away. I couldn’t pretend anymore. That’s why I’ve been acting so—so crazy. It was too much, loving you and not being able to. Every time I saw you, I just wanted to hold you and take your pain away. And I know I did. I know you feel it too. But you don’t want to.”

“Please,” she beseeched, wanting to shut off the sound of his voice, wanting to stop the sinking feeling taking over her. She was falling, fading, suffocating from it all. Her, him, them. Words she didn’t want to hear, but couldn’t not hear—it was destroying her. The way she felt, not knowing how she felt, and about her husband’s brother; it was agony.

Lincoln reached for her, his hands cupping her cheeks. “I want you, Sara. I’ve always wanted you. Damaged, broken, irrevocably ruined, I still want you. It doesn’t matter to me. I don’t care. I’ll always want you. No matter what. No matter where you are. If you’re with me or not; I’ll want you. It’s not ever going away. Maybe Cole was it for you, maybe none of this matters, and I’m tearing out my soul for you for no reason, but…you were it for me. You’re it for me, Sara. Always have been.”

Sara stared at him, seeing how unhinged he was, her breath leaving her much too quickly when Lincoln raised his intense eyes to hers, not once removing his gaze from her face as the minutes slowly ticked by. His words washed over her, seeped into her, warmed her, and made the numbness go away. She blinked her eyes against tears, feeling so many conflicting emotions she had no control over. It didn’t matter what she wanted to feel or not feel; she felt what she did, and what Sara felt scared her.

Look away. Leave. Before it’s too late. She couldn’t stop herself when she lifted a hand and traced the sharp angle of his cheekbone. He went still, inhaling sharply. For once his face didn’t try to replace Lincoln’s. It was just Lincoln she saw. He was all there was now. Sara let her hand drop and turned away.

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question.

Sara paused, eyes on the door. “I have to.”

“Why?”

Her face tried to crumple and Sara locked her jaw to thwart it. “Because I finally see you,” she whispered.

***

In the three weeks since the confrontation between them, Lincoln had kept his distance. They’d had stuttering phone conversations full of long pauses until eventually they’d not even bothered. There was a strain on Sara that had little to do with her husband’s death and more to do with the chasm of confusing emotions between her and Lincoln. How had it all gotten so messed up? Everything had fit; everything had been complete before the wreck, before she’d lost her husband. Now there were just hundreds of puzzle pieces and nowhere to put them.

Lincoln was at her house now. He’d stopped on his way home from work. Her eyes kept going to him across the table, but words failed her. She didn’t know what to say. Sara wanted to hug him, to touch her cheek to his, to feel his arms around her and she also wanted to never see him again.

He sighed, tapping his fingers on the table. “This is awkward.”

“A little.” Sara pushed the cold cup of coffee between her hands.

He ran his fingers through his hair, hanging his head. “We fought about it once.”

“What?”

“You.” Lincoln looked up, piercing her with his powerful gaze.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” Liar, Sara.

“I think you do. I think you know what I mean. We fought about you, right before the wedding. Cole suspected my feelings for you. He confronted me. I didn’t admit it. I didn’t deny it. He knew.”

“What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He punched me. He punched me in the face and said you were his. He said he’d seen you first, like that was enough to claim you as his.” Lincoln gave a bitter laugh. “Only he hadn’t. I told him that too. I was so angry, so sick of acting like it didn’t kill me every time I saw you together. I guess I told him that because I was hurting, knowing you were about to be married. I was desperate and I wanted Cole to hurt like I was hurting. It was a shitty thing to do.

“His eyes…they dimmed a little. He didn’t say anything. He just left. I felt like an ass and I suppose I should have. We never talked about it again. I don’t know why I’m even bringing it up. I guess, I don’t know…” Lincoln shook his head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“That was a mean thing to do,” Sara choked out.

“I suppose I never should have said anything, but—” Lincoln rubbed his eyes, his face tense with strain. “It was the one thing I had over him. That I saw you first. It was all I had and when he hit me, I just, I had to retaliate. Immature. Childish. I know.”

She stared at him, not really seeing him, but a memory.

Sara smiled at his reflection in the mirror as he came up behind her. “Ready to go?” She set the brush down, the smile leaving her lips as she took in his expression. Sara turned to face him. “What’s wrong?”

Cole averted his face as he played with the brush on the bathroom sink. “Do you…do you have any doubts, Sara?”

“What do you mean?” she whispered, dread forming inside her.

He rubbed his jaw, still not looking at her. “About us. The wedding’s coming up—“

“The wedding’s in two days,” she interrupted shrilly.

“Yeah. I just…do you? I have to know. Do you have any doubts?”

Her stomach dropped. “What? No. Never. Do you?” Sara’s pulse tripped as she choked the words out. If he doubted his love for her, she wouldn’t be able to take it. He was everything to her.

“No. Of course not. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone, Sara. You’re it for me. I just…I wanna make sure I’m it for you too.” He lifted his head, showing his distraught eyes; a darker blue than they normally were with unhappiness. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed together.

“You’re it for me too, Cole,” she vowed, grabbing his dry, calloused hands and kissing the backs of them.

“Sure?”

“Positive.”

The troubled look faded and a grin captured his lips. “Better be. We got a wedding coming up.” He grabbed her and spun her around the small bathroom, knocking stuff over and making her laugh, which made him laugh.

Sara fisted her hands, staring at Lincoln. “You made him doubt himself. You made him doubt me. Why did you have to tell him that?”

Lincoln gritted his teeth. “I never gave him any reason to think I cared about you more than…more than I should have, but he thought it, knew it, anyway. I didn’t say anything until he punched me. I told you that. And if he had doubts, I didn’t put them there.”

“What are you saying? That he had doubts on his own about marrying me?” she whispered, her chest squeezing painfully.

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” His eyes flashed as he shot to his feet and advanced on her. “You think I’m trying to make you feel like shit? So what, I feel good or something? You really think I’d do that?”

“That’s what you’re doing.”

“It’s not what I’m doing!” Lincoln loomed over her, his face close to hers. “What I’m doing…what I’m doing…I don’t know what I’m doing.” Lincoln hung his head, his hair tickling her cheek.

Sara sucked in air through her lungs, but it was never enough. She was struggling. Her heart pounded with his proximity. Her body responded to Lincoln whether she wanted it to or not. She didn’t want it to. She didn’t want to feel about him the way she did. Especially now, at this moment, when he was saying what he was saying.

“I just want you to know that he wasn’t your only chance at happiness, that he wasn’t the only man you can love. I just want…I just want you to admit you care about me. Something. I want something from you, Sara, and I’m getting nothing.”

You have more of me than you know. Sara couldn’t tell him that. It was true, but she couldn’t say the words. As he stared down at her, the pull of him was too powerful, hypnotic. She didn’t understand why a yearning was forming inside her, pulsating with need, longing for something, for Lincoln. Sara’s eyes remained locked with his as she angled her face up. His brows lowered, his breathing quickened.

What are you doing? something inside her screamed and Sara leaned back in her chair, shaking and unnerved. “I think…maybe…”

Lincoln straightened; his facial expression empty. He crossed to the front door. “Yeah. Take care, Sara,” he said as he opened the door, but there was a hint of mockery to it.

***

He hadn’t been perfect. He’d been a little too prideful at times, and even somewhat selfish, but Sara had loved him anyway. He’d been her husband, her world, and she’d loved him. And now—She inhaled deeply, briefly closing her eyes—now there was pain and loss where the love had been. Lincoln had no right to point out his flaws to her, as if she hadn’t already known them, as if Sara would forget them.

When Sara thought of Lincoln, her insides knotted uncomfortably and she felt a little sick. It made her think of him—her husband—less, and that brought relief and guilt with the realization. Most days she felt emotionless, especially when her thoughts went to him. There was just…a void where he was supposed to be and that hurt the most. The thought of closing her eyes and never reopening them was appealing. It was as if all the grief she’d had stored up for him had evaporated or been buried with him to be replaced with nothing. Sara was nothing. She felt nothing. Why not feel nothing forever?

She wanted to hate Lincoln for making her feel when that was the last thing she wanted. The numbness faded when he was near. He brought life back to her, and it was painful and stinging like a limb coming awake after going to sleep from disuse. Sara hung her head as she leaned against the kitchen sink, her hands gripping the edges of it. She almost hated Lincoln for forcing her to live, but of course, she hated herself more. Sara especially hated how she had a life to live and she was wasting it and couldn’t find the courage, the strength, to not let it rot away.

If God was really around, she’d like to ask Him why. She’d like to ask Him why about a lot of things, but most prominent in her mind was: why her? She was ungrateful, unworthy of the life she had. If Sara could give it back to her husband she would. Too late, Sara. It’s too late for that.

“Are you here?” someone asked. It took a moment for Sara to realize that the unfamiliar voice was hers; high and breathless and distorted.

She slowly turned around, wondering what she would see, wondering what she would hear. It was her kitchen, same as it should be. The air didn’t shift, no image produced itself, and there was no disembodied voice. There was no one. It made her sad, which Sara realized was probably not a good sign. Pretty soon she’d be having full conversations with inanimate objects.

The pull to leave the house was profound. Sara quickly washed the plate and cup from her supper. The peanut butter and honey toast and milk had been tasteless, but it had reduced the gnawing sensation in her stomach. She tugged on a coat and stood before the closed front door, thinking of the painting of the blue door the color of his eyes. Her hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob; Sara already knew where she would go. Something in him called to her, or maybe it was as simple as she didn’t want to be alone.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 549