Take Care, Sara by Lindy Zart_ 18 page

“Hello?” When Lincoln didn’t speak, and she’d been fairly positive he wouldn’t, Sara began, “It’s so beautiful here, Lincoln. The scenery is green, lush, peaceful. You’re probably wondering where here is, aren’t you? About that…I didn’t tell you not because I didn’t want you to follow and I was afraid you would. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid if I did, I’d be the one to leave before I should; I’d be the one to run back to you before I’d found myself. Not that that has happened anyway. The finding me part. I don’t know if I can. Or if that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.

“I mean, I got part of what I wanted. I do feel better. I do feel a peace I didn’t before I left. The rest…I’m finding it as I go. I’m finding…me. I think. I still don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Maybe I’m not supposed to figure that out and that’s what I had to figure out.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I had to travel all the way to where I did to figure myself or not figure myself out. I don’t know. To get away from everything that reminded me of him, to heal. And I don’t mean you when I say things I needed to get away from. You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t.

“I want to ask you to wait for me, to keep loving me, to not decide I’m a waste of time, but I don’t feel like I have the place to tell you that. Do I, Lincoln? I can tell what you’re thinking. I mean, even now, when you’re not talking, I can feel your anger. You’re bristling with it, aren’t you? So stubborn. Why have you loved me for so long?” Sara whispered. “I don’t think I’m worthy of it. But I guess it’s not for me to decide who loves me or doesn’t.”

Sara walked to the sliding glass doors and looked out at the pink and orange sunset, placing a hand on the cool glass, touching the sky. “I guess I should admit the obvious: I didn’t find me. I failed in that quest. I came here to find me and found there wasn’t anything to find. The person I used to be; the old Sara, she’s gone. I can’t find what no longer exists. But that’s okay. It has to be.

“It doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t know if it’s because I’m away from it all or if it’s because I’m simply healing. But I can think of him without feeling like my heart is being ripped out. I can think his name. I can say his name. Slowly, painfully, my wounds are closing. I know it won’t take weeks or months to be completely healed. I don’t know if I ever will be. But at least I can breathe without feeling like my insides are being crushed.

“I…” Sara swallowed and turned away from the window. “You don’t remind me of him, Lincoln; you obliterate him. That makes me sad and relieved all at once.” Sara’s throat tightened. “I’m losing him, the part of me that loves him; it’s leaving, fading. I hate that, but I know it has to happen. He’s gone. I finally accept that Cole’s gone. It hurts. I know it will always hurt. But you…you make it stop hurting. I miss you, Lincoln. At first I told myself it was because I was lonely. I told myself a lot of things at first, but I do…I really do. I know…I know you can never replace him. I don’t want that. I see you now, Lincoln. I think I always did, but I wouldn’t let myself. I see you and I—“ She bit her lip to keep the declaration in. The silence from Lincoln was thick and full of longing. She could feel it; hers mirrored his. “I see you. I know that, if nothing else,” Sara said lamely. “I’m not making sense. Good night. Take care, Lincoln.”

***

The rain pelted against the glass, blurring the darkened world outside the room. Sara stared at the rivulets as they slid down the pane, each one a piece of her past washing away. She looked at her reflection, sucking in a sharp breath at the face looking back at her. It wasn’t her own. A sad smile partially lifted his lips and his eyes stared all the love he had for her, would always have for her, back at her.

“Cole,” she whispered, her tears mocking the raindrops on the window as they trailed down her cheeks. “I miss you, Cole.” Sara’s throat was tight and her chest ached. That part of her heart that would always belong to Cole mourned him. “It scares me that he’s taking over your place in my heart.”

“He’s not taking it over, Sara. You’re just making room for him. You do have the capability to love more than one person.” She heard the grin in his voice, closed her eyes to better hear him.

“But I think of him instead of you. I want him like I used to want you.”

“You should. He’s alive. I’m not. I get it, Sara. I’m okay with it. You’re the one who isn’t and has to be.” A pause. “Take care, Sara.”

Sara lifted a palm to his face and it shifted away like sand in the wind, one tiny particle at a time until only her image could be seen. She couldn’t see him, but his words stayed with her, whether actually heard or imagined. Take care, Sara.

***

“You’re ready to go.”

Sara played with a dandelion in the grass, staining her fingers with yellow. She brushed her fingertips over the soft petals, thinking of Lincoln’s lips. Sara shivered in spite of the humid, hot day; her clothes unpleasantly sticking to her.

“How can you tell?” she asked Dana, glancing to where she sat cross-legged on the blanket, surprisingly sprite for one so old. She wore a purple and hot pink zigzagged shirt and silver capris. Sara wore a more muted down outfit; a white tee shirt and black cotton shorts.

The tree they sat under afforded shade, but little respite from the heat. It had been close to eight weeks since Sara had made the trip to Waupun, lost and confused. She wasn’t either of those things anymore, though she also wasn’t exactly whole.

She and Dana had gotten closer over the weeks, spending more than their habitual morning coffee and doughnut time together; going for walks, Dana playing the local tour guide to Sara, watching movies at night, sitting on Dana’s deck that was connected to the motel. Sara absolutely thought the world of Dana. In her she’d found a friend. They looked like grandmother and granddaughter, but that had little bearing on their kinship.

Dana drank from her glass of vegetable juice, the ice clinking against her teeth as she tipped her head back. “Your eyes. They aren’t so sad. Your back is straighter. You don’t hesitate with every action or word you say. You’re ready.”

It was all true. The oozing hole of agony was shrinking, deteriorating in size and power over her. She could finally breathe again, on her own. And that was what she’d needed before she could begin to absolve herself of responsibility over circumstances out of her control.

Sara pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and gave Dana her full attention. “How did you meet my parents?”

A smile stretched Dana’s red lips. “Darcy and Jim. My second husband was distantly related to them. Very distantly. I met them at a family reunion many, many years ago, before your time. There was something about your mother that drew me to her, much like I was drawn to you; an inner spark, a flame that wouldn’t be snuffed out; a quiet strength that seemed frail, but was stronger than steel. People like that get underestimated a lot, I’ve found. Sometimes they even underestimate themselves.”

“You’ll get no denial from me,” Sara replied, inhaling slowly, deeply of the fragranced air of newly mowed grass, so thankful she’d found the strength she hadn’t been aware she had.

Dana turned her brown eyes to Sara. They were warm and bright. “You look like her, but you also have your father’s chin and eyes and his quiet manner. I’ve always found the ones that are the quietest make the most of their words when they do talk.”

Sara smiled, touching the cross necklace she wore around her neck, thinking of her parents and her husband. “Cole was like that. He didn’t have to say much to get his point across.”

“I met him.”

She blinked, surprised. “You did?”

“At your wedding. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You only had eyes for him. But his brother, I remember, only had eyes for you. Cole was the embodiment of happiness and his brother was a perfect imitation of brooding. Except when you looked at him. Then he lit up.”

Sara shifted, suddenly hotter than she’d been a moment before. She hated knowing Lincoln had been loving her and hurting because of it, for so long. It made her feel guilty, though she’d had no idea of his feelings for her at the time. But Cole had known. That must have twisted him up inside. Sara hung her head and rubbed her forehead, weary of the past.

“Don’t feel remorseful. We don’t choose who we love. Love chooses us. You love him now. That’s all that matters.”

Sara reached over and took Dana’s leathery hand, squeezing it. “I’m not ready to go, not yet. I want to spend a little more time with you, if that’s okay?”

Dana’s eyes watered and she hastily swiped a hand across them, scowling. “If you really think you need to. What’s an old lady got that a young strapping man doesn’t?”

A smile teased Sara’s lips. “Well, for the moment…me. If you’ll let me stay.”

“Of course I’ll let you stay,” Dana replied gruffly. “I expect you to bring your man friend around sometime too so I drool over him. I don’t get much action these days.”

“Deal.” Laughing, Sara got to her feet and helped Dana up, then reached down to fold up the blanket. She tucked it under her arm, saying, “Much action?”

“Never you mind. Come on. You can help me oversee the cleaning ladies. I think one of them has been snitching soap and I aim to catch the thief.” Her eyes sparkled in anticipation and Sara laughed again, wrapping her arm around Dana’s thin shoulders as they walked back to the red and brown brick rambling structure called Newman Motel.

“I expect you to visit within the next few months. I’ve gotten used to you being around. I also need my eye candy fix and your Lincoln will do.”

Sara put the last of her bags in the trunk of the Pontiac and closed it, turning to lean her hips against it. She crossed her arms, squinting under the glare of the August sun. A smile on her lips, she met the fluorescent pink and orange clothed Dana head on. Her hair was teased exceptionally high today in honor of Sara’s departure.

“My Lincoln?”

“Well, he isn’t mine and I know he isn’t anyone else’s. Boy calls every day and says nothing. Crazy lovesick fool.” Dana shook her head, but a smile curved her lips. “He’s yours,” she said definitively.

Warmth trickled through her at the thought. She hoped he was. The phone calls hadn’t ceased as the time had drawn out, giving her encouragement that Lincoln loved her still, that maybe, even though it wasn’t right of her to expect or want him to, he was waiting for her. She felt like she’d been waiting for him for so long as well.

“I promise I will be here within one month, not two. I’ll miss seeing you too much if I go any longer than that. Maybe you could come visit me in Boscobel as well.”

Dana dabbed at her eyes with a wadded up tissue, smearing her makeup. “Well. If you insist.”

Sara reached over to wrap her in a tight hug. Dana’s flowery scent amplified with her nearness and caused a small twinge of homesickness for her in Sara’s chest even though she hadn’t left yet. Sara vowed, “I do.”

The wind blew, scattering fallen leaves and waving tree limbs as though Waupun was saying its own farewell to Sara. She smiled, feeling a closure she hadn’t known was possible. This time away had healed her; not completely, but enough.

“I’m old, Sara. I’ve known a lot of people. I’ve loved a lot. Hell, I’ve married a lot. But you,” Dana patted her cheek, “you’re my girl. I’m glad you picked up the phone and decided to call me. I think I got as much out of our time together as you did, if not more. I always wanted a daughter. You’ll do.”

“Only I’m more like a granddaughter,” Sara teased around the tears burning her eyes.

“Hush,” Dana said, reaching up to kiss Sara’s cheek, her lips papery thin and cool. “I didn’t say how old I was.”

“I’ll call you,” Sara promised, unable to resist the pull to hug her friend once more. She kissed her tight cheek, already missing her.

“You better.” Dana gave her back a pat as Sara turned to get into the car.

Hands on the steering wheel, Sara’s gaze went to the second floor room that had been her home the past few months. Dana walked past the front of the car on her way to the office, waving as she went. Sara smiled and waved back, inhaling slowly around the churning sensation in her stomach. Her nerves were jittery with excitement and fear. It was time to say goodbye to another piece of her life and began a new one. Beginnings and endings; that’s what life was made of. Sara turned the key in the ignition and turned the car in the direction of Boscobel.

***

Sara saw with clarity she hadn’t been able to find before the time spent in Waupun. She knew she could love Lincoln without betraying Cole. Some things, like the blame she’d placed on herself for the loss of her husband’s life, weren’t so easily accepted. But she was trying and that was all she could do. Forgiveness, even for oneself, was earned. Sara was earning it with each thought of Cole that was happy instead of sad; with each smile she allowed herself, with every sunrise and sunset she gazed at with thankfulness; with every breath she felt worthy of instead of unworthy.

She’d been gone a little under three months and she’d been back over a week. It was unusually hot for September in Wisconsin; making her think even the weather could be confused at times. There had been no calls from Lincoln since her return and she wondered why that was. Had he known the exact day she’d come back to Boscobel or was it a coincidence that that was the day he’d decided she wasn’t worth waiting for? The thought made her heart painfully squeeze. Or maybe he was simply waiting for her. He’d waited so long already; too long. Knowing Lincoln had loved her for so years was dizzying, unbelievable.

Sara talked to Dana every other day. She made her laugh with her recollections of her marriage fiascos and her continuing search to find the thieving housekeeper at the motel. They both knew there wasn’t one. Dana’s employees were honest and trustworthy; it was just something to talk about and Dana was certainly a good storyteller. Even with the distance between them, they still had their coffee and doughnuts at eight on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as they chatted about nothing of importance. The conversations were important; not the words spoken during them.

The house she’d found to rent was red with tan trim, small, and filled with unpacked boxes and new furniture. It fit her and Sara felt a relief upon entering it she hadn’t known whether she’d feel or not. It was time to get back to herself; the new self that was living without Cole and able to do so. She would make this home hers and only hers; leaving the ghosts of the past where they needed to be, in the past, in the place in her heart designated to Cole and her parents and their unborn baby; to love and not mourn.

Painting was easier and her finished art had more depth than it used to carry; the colors were bolder, and the peace she found didn’t fade as soon as she set the paintbrush down. Sara painted with her soul now. Every stroke of the paintbrush on canvas was a gift to those not with her; every painting a piece of her she would share with the world with joy and not sorrow or fear. Business was slow with her artwork at the moment; having been out of practice and contact with the art world for so long, but Sara was confident it would be steady again in time. Like her.

On one such day, as she painted, her mind drifted to the day she’d seen the ‘C’ in the blue paint and thought it an omen from Cole. Maybe it had been, but maybe it had been in a way different from what she’d thought. Sara set the paintbrush down and tried to recollect the exact shape of the splatter on the floor. Could it have been an ‘L’? Even then, had he been telling her something? Had she seen a ‘C’ at the time because she’d had to see that or because it truly had been? Did she know it to be an ‘L’ now because she wanted it to be or because it always had been? An interesting concept. The letter ‘C’ and the letter ‘L’ could be quite similar, depending on the hand that wrote them. Or it could have simply been a splotch of paint.

She’d bumped into Mason and his nephew one day at the park and had spent the afternoon swinging and playing with Derek; regaling Mason with tales of her Waupun adventure and Dana. He’d looked at her with contentment, knowing she was on the right path. It was because of him and Lincoln and so many other people, but most of all, it was because of Sara.

As she now left the house, a warm breeze played with her hair. Sara gazed at the leafy green trees and grass as she walked, her destination filling her with apprehension and purpose. Lawnmowers whirred along in various yards, tossing the scent of freshly mowed grass in the air; kids shouted and squealed as they played. The sun was hot, warming her lightly suntanned skin. She’d loved Waupun, but she didn’t want to live there. Her home was here, in Boscobel. Her home was wherever was closest to Lincoln, even if not with Lincoln. Even if they couldn’t be together, even if he no longer wanted her, Sara wanted a part of him; she needed a part of him; even if only it was his friendship and nothing more. It would be enough. It had to be. But she hoped it wasn’t.

She hadn’t heard Cole or seen anything unusual since she’d been in Waupun and had heard his final words of “Take care, Sara” in her mind. So maybe he was truly gone and that had been his final goodbye. That saddened her, but it also set her free in a way. Of course, maybe he’d never really been with her at all. But her mind, at least, she had needed him to be, for a while anyway.

Sara walked through the rusted gate of the equally rusted fence, her skin prickling as she gazed at the land littered with tombstones. Giving a slight shudder, she walked toward his headstone. Sara had never liked cemeteries; they were filled with the dead and no matter where she stepped, she feared she was walking on a body. Graveyards made her feel like she was in another world; the land of the dead, where the dead were never really dead. Winds were cool and harsher here; shadows lengthened and darkened, and even when it was warm out, it was colder here. Sara didn’t want to think of Cole being in such a place, but this was where he was now, and so this was where she would talk to him. She knew it was only his body and not his soul buried beneath the ground—it wasn’t really him; Cole—but it was the closest she could physically get to him.

It was the anniversary of the car wreck and also his birthday; September 1st. In a way he was born on the same day he died.

The tombstone was rectangular and gray; simple. It read ‘Cole Walker – Beloved Son, Brother, and Husband’ with his date of birth and date of death. Where are you, Cole? Where are you now? Sara glanced around the empty cemetery, uneasily realizing she was the only living being here. It made her skin break out in goose bumps. She knelt on the uneven ground, searching for words to say, but nothing came to her. She’d made her peace with herself; she was trying to make her peace with God as well. And Cole.

“I don’t know what to say. I know you’re not really here. I have to believe you’re somewhere better, or I won’t be able to do this. I won’t be okay unless I think that.” Sara’s knees became stiff the longer she crouched down beside the tombstone, but it didn’t matter. “I guess the reason I’m here…I guess what I came to say is…” Her eyes burned with unshed tears and the wind picked up, tousling her hair around her face as she stared at the stone she knew would be cold and smooth. “Goodbye. I came to say goodbye. Not to you, never to you, but to—“ Sara blinked and unlocked the tears. “To the life we had together,” she whispered, brushing the tears away with a trembling hand.

The cold breeze abruptly stopped, a warm stillness taking its place. Sara smiled in spite of the tears, love and sorrow welling in her heart for the man she’d been blessed to have. She had to remember that; she had to be thankful for the time they’d had together, instead of thinking of the time they hadn’t gotten.

“Goodbye, Cole,” she whispered, slowly standing. A collage of images, thoughts, and emotions pierced her as she stood; blue eyes, gruff laughter, warm hands, coffee and cherry Carmex, passion, tenderness, sadness, love. Sara took a deep breath and turned; all of it fading away at the sight that met her.

Down the gravel path, standing just inside the fence, was Lincoln.

Sara’s pulse jumped as her eyes caressed him. It had been almost three months since she’d seen him and it had been far too long. A day was too long. She wanted to run to him. Her feet even moved forward in anticipation. Hunger propelled her, though she had no idea what kind of reciprocation she would receive. His dark locks were disheveled and wavy; the way they should be, his gray eyes riveted to her; as she now knew they always were and always had been. Lincoln wore a black tee shirt that was tight against his toned frame and khaki shorts, his stance wary as she approached.

Her stomach was swirling, her heart pounded at a scary rate, and she thought she’d pass out or go insane if she didn’t touch him. But he seemed so far away. Her fingers longed to smooth his furrowed brow, her lips wanted to feel the firm softness of his on them. She ached for him. Sara’s eyes devoured the sight of him. If it was all she had, if it was all she was allowed, then she would let her eyes take their fill and then some. She would stare at him until he faded from her view, and even then, she’d see him in her mind. Forever.

“How did you know I would be here?” she gasped out, trying to catch her breath that was evading her. Sara self-consciously touched her dirt-smudged pink shorts and tugged at the white shirt she wore, knowing she looked horrid. She tried to smooth her thick hair down and then gave up. This was not how she’d wanted to look for their reunion after a month’s absence. It was also not the place she’d had in mind for it either.

“I didn’t.”

“Oh.” Something inside her deflated and Sara tore her gaze from his, feeling immediately empty. “Did you—did you know I was back? From…where I was?” She glanced at his unreadable expression.

“You know Boscobel. Everyone knows your business before you even do,” he said dryly. “I knew where you were, Sara,” he added softly.

She frowned. “You did? How?”

Lincoln sighed. “Do you really think I wouldn’t find out where you were going so I knew you’d be safe? So I knew you’d be okay?”

“But…Spencer,” she said, realization dawning on her.

“Having a cop for a friend can be good at times,” was all he said.

“You two are okay? You and Spencer? You talked and everything?”

Lincoln snorted. “Guys, talking? Guys don’t talk, Sara. We ridicule each other, toss back a couple beers, sometimes even throw a few punches, and move on.”

“So did you then? Move on?”

“Yep,” he replied shortly.

“Good.” She exhaled. “I’m glad.”

Sara studied his gray eyes, searching for something. Lincoln shifted his jaw and looked over her head, not letting her see in his face what he didn’t want her to. “Did you come to say hello or did you come to say goodbye?” He nodded toward the hill where Cole’s headstone resided.

“I don’t…” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

Lincoln shook his head. “Nothing. You need a ride?”

For the first time Sara noticed the Dodge truck alongside the road, parked haphazardly, as though he’d been in a hurry to park it. “Sure. I live on—“

“I know where you live, Sara,” he interrupted darkly, turning and stalking to his vehicle.

Sara followed, confused. It felt like her gut was shredded into millions of irreplaceable pieces. Like she was swallowing glass, or had had all the air stolen from her lungs. Even it was better than not being near him, not being able to gaze at his flawed perfection.

The ride was tense, silent. She was only minutely surprised when he pulled the truck up to the right house. Lincoln’s body was wound tight, like a taut string. There was so much strength in that body, so much power. A tick in his jaw captured her attention and held it as she struggled for the right words to say. In the end, there were none.

His voice was gravel when he said slowly, evenly, “Do you know…I wanted to tie you up so you couldn’t go? I seriously thought about it. Or I was going to kidnap you and lock you in my room until you saw reason. Only I figured Spencer might frown on that. Bad thing about having a cop for a friend,” he muttered.

Sara inhaled sharply, knowing she should be disturbed by that declaration but found she was pleased instead.

“And then the phone calls. God, those were torture. Sweet torture. I wanted to shout at you, plead with you, tell you how much I loved you. I wanted to get in my truck and go to Waupun and bring you home with me. I even thought about just going there and watching you; just to see you, just to know you were really okay. I have serious issues where you’re concerned.” Lincoln let his head thump against the steering wheel, his shoulders slumping.

“I wanted to leave. I wanted to turn the car around before I even left Boscobel,” she quietly admitted. “But I had to go, Lincoln, otherwise I would have never known if I truly loved you or if you were just a crutch I leaned on in my time of need. I wouldn’t have known the depth of my feelings for you. I wouldn’t have been able to heal. I wouldn’t have known—“ she broke off, unable to continue.

“What? What wouldn’t you have known?” he demanded, still not looking at her.

“Do you hate me, Lincoln?” Sara blurted, mentally kicking herself at how weak she sounded, like she would die if he did. A part of her would, she knew that much.

His head swung around, his features twisted in incredulity. “What?”

She played with the hem of her shorts, her leg warm against her hand. “Do you hate me?”

“Of all the stupid—no, I don’t hate you. Some days I wish I did. It would make all of this a hell of a lot easier. You think I can just turn my feelings for you off and on, like a switch? You think a month is sufficient enough time to forget you, to move on, to get you out of my system?” Lincoln leaned across the console, locking her in place with his stormy eyes. “I will never get over you, Sara, never.”

Sara trembled as she stared at him, seeing the fire in his eyes, seeing the truth of his words in the set of his face. She was going to shatter if she didn’t tell him. Sara couldn’t keep the secret inside her any longer. He had to know. Lincoln had to know how she felt about him.

“I love you,” she whispered brokenly.

He froze, his expression turning to granite. Lincoln slowly turned his gaze away to stare out the windshield. His jaw shifted as he inhaled deeply. “Do you mean that?” Lincoln asked roughly, eyes still trained straight ahead.

Sara wordlessly nodded, and then realizing he wasn’t looking at her, she reached for him. Her hand grasped his hard bicep and squeezed, needing him closer. With a groan, Lincoln grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. “Tell me again,” he begged, burying his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers digging into her thighs, holding her like he feared she’d vanish if he released his grip on her. His body trembled and tenderness rushed through her.

“I love you, Lincoln,” Sara said, her voice clear and strong. She cupped his sharp jawline in her hands, the rough texture of his unshaven skin tingling against her palms, their eyes so close she saw the gold in them; so close she saw the raw need in them. “I think I love your eyes the most. The color, the shape, even your long, thick eyelashes. They’re silver and gold and I see your soul in them and I see myself in them as well. I love the way they spark to life in anger and humor; the way they’re always locked on me, wherever I am. Like you’re afraid if you look away I’ll disappear or you’ll lose me. You won’t, you know,” she added softly.

Lincoln swallowed. “Do you know how long I’ve longed to hear you say that?”

“That I love your eyes?” she teased.

“Yeah, that too. But that you love me?” Lincoln studied her face, his gaze searching.

“A long time?”

He took a shuddering breath. “You have no idea, Sara. None.”

“You’re right. I don’t. But I’m here now. And I’m yours.”

Their eyes locked. Sara felt the heat and hardness of his body beneath hers, the way the fiery warmth rolled off him and onto her, connecting them, intertwining them with desire and love; invisible tendrils sweeping through her and him, branding them as each other’s.

The opened windows of the truck let balmy air blanket them, marginally cooling the heat of their skin. She fit perfectly to him; her body the missing puzzle piece to make Lincoln whole and vice versa. Sara placed her hands on his firm chest and felt his heart thunder beneath her palm, focusing on that. So many times she’d listen to Lincoln’s heartbeat and centered herself in the steady thrum of it.

Date: 2015-04-20; view: 580