Saving Sarah

by Nan Reinhardt

  Rounding out the board were Carrie serving as treasurer, Sophie as secretary, Will as financial officer, with Perry Graham, the owner of the Daily Grind, and Margie Dixon serving as members-at-large. As a major donor, Henry had turned down a board seat, but showed up at the house regularly to pound nails, paint, or tear out old fixtures.

  Julie insisted that Sarah, as shelter manager, be present at weekly board meetings. They’d already started paying her a salary, which would include a per diem once she moved into the shelter; and even though she had no voting power, Jules wanted Sarah’s input on every decision.

  The shelter had given Sarah the focus she needed, and Chris had clearly taken Deputy Reynard’s instructions to heart. The kid stuck to her like glue, shadowing her every move throughout the vast property, even to the point of hovering outside the door of the one working bathroom when she was in there. If she needed to run personal errands, he escorted her to the market or the drugstore when he drove her back to the apartment each evening, which had kept Sarah from having to find her own vehicle, at least for the moment.

  Although now and then she fought the urge to tell him to back off, Chris’s presence did indeed boost her sense of safety. At home, locked doors, closed shutters, and her new Ruger LC9 gave her the security she needed. She’d found a rhythm with Chris and her work at the shelter, a soothing pattern that allowed her to sleep at night and, best of all, to breathe.

  Dating? That was an entirely different story. Tony made almost daily visits to the house, seeking her out to say hello and chat for a moment after he got a job assignment from Frank. For the past two weeks, he’d been sanding and puttying woodwork around the windows and doors in preparation for painting, and had even recruited some high-school kids to pitch in.

  He moved from the step to the window seat, leaving plenty of room between them. “Come on, Sarah. You need a break from this place. Have dinner with me and”—he raised one brow—“afterward, I’ll take you to the shooting range out at Perkins.” His eyes twinkled amber-brown in the sunlight as he made the offer and she couldn’t help chuckling.

  “You really know the way to a girl’s heart, don’t you, Deputy?” she teased. She was anxious to learn how to use the new gun he’d helped her buy the day he confiscated the one she’d brought from Chicago. He’d shown her the basics—enough that she could defend herself if someone broke into her house. With the shelter taking every moment of her time and having Chris at her back her fears were eased enough about being out without it, so she hadn’t pushed to go out to the shooting range.

  “Hey, I gotta grab my advantages where I can,” Tony said. “If you told me you wanted to go shopping for lace curtains, I’d be on my phone Googling curtain stores right now.” His expression softened. “I like you, Sarah. I think you know that and I believe you like me, too…just a little.” That wistful smile damn near did her in.

  Heat flooded her cheeks as she switched her gaze to her dusty tennis shoes. Maybe the time had come to dip her toes in the dating pool again. It had been a long time since she’d even thought about a man in her life. She’d left Ames with only one thought—never again—and she’d remained closed to the idea…until now.

  Was this attraction part of the “Willow Bay effect” that the Posse had talked about when they’d all met for coffee one morning? Carrie had commented on how much more comfortable Sarah seemed, how focused on the shelter, even remarking delightedly that she had picked up a few pounds. She was right. Sarah had relaxed, due in no small part to the tranquil atmosphere in this little beach town.

  The village had taken her in like an abandoned puppy and every single person she’d met had welcomed her warmly. Perry already knew she took her half-caf with two creams and that she preferred his blueberry muffins to the bran ones that Julie loved. Margie Dixon brought her zucchini and lettuce from her big garden and, only last night, Ted at the market pointed out a new batch of Rainier cherries that had come in. He’d paid attention to the fact that she bought fresh cherries almost every time she shopped.

  She was getting sucked into village life in Willow Bay with each passing day, which both pleased and worried her. She loved the helpful friendly manner of the citizens, but she worried what would happen if she was forced to flee again.

  What if Paul discovered her whereabouts? What if he found out she’d gone out with Tony? What if—

  “You’re overthinking.” His warm voice interrupted her train of thought. “Dinner? Yes or no?”

  “The shooting range, too?” Sarah asked, finally meeting his intense gaze.

  “You betcha.” That dimpled grin made her heart stutter.

  “Okay.” She rose as Chris headed back upstairs toting the shop vac. “See you about seven?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes as she caught the furtive thumbs-up Chris tossed Tony when he passed him on the landing.

  TWELVE

  Tony couldn’t believe he was finally sitting across the table from the woman he’d been not pining for, but definitely thinking about for the last two and half months.

  As he watched her animated expression when she described the frat boys’ latest antics, he couldn’t help remembering the first time he’d met her. How her hands shook when she’d held him at bay with that nothing of a pistol, her face deadly serious. He still wasn’t convinced she would’ve shot him, although now that he knew some of her story, he had to admit that the prospect was more likely than he first believed.

  With an effort, he kept from asking her about her ex-husband and her former life in Georgia. Somehow, he simply couldn’t imagine Sarah Bennett being cowed by any man, although the very thought still made his blood boil. His emotions ran the gamut, from praying Paul Prescott would never track her down in Willow Bay to wishing he would turn up. Tony could beat the living shit out of him and then stick him in jail for the rest of his life. Or better yet, shoot the bastard, weight his body, and drop him into the watery depths of Lake Michigan. He was fairly certain Liam, Will, and Henry would have his back on that one.

  That smirking mug shot haunted Tony’s dreams. More than once since Sarah had come into his life, he’d awakened in a cold sweat, trembling and furious. The crime scene pictures filled his mind every time he encountered her—those horrifying shots of her daughter’s broken body and the grim photos of Sarah beaten and bloody.

  Jesus, what kind of monster does—

  “Don’t you think so?” Sarah’s voice brought him back to the Fishwife with a start.

  He blinked, realizing he’d lost most of what she’d said for the past couple of minutes. Something about the frat boys… Oh hell, he couldn’t come up with what and she’d know immediately if he tried to fake it.

  He’d have to ’fess up. “Sorry, I was drifting.” Giving her a sheepish smile, he went for broke. “You look so amazing tonight I got distracted.”

  Pink color stained her cheeks, disarming him completely. “Thank you,” she said, lowering her eyes. “Back at you, Deputy. I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in anything except your uniform or beat-up work clothes.” She chuckled and held up one hand. “Or your yachting uniform.”

  Tony grinned, enjoying how the candlelight reflected in her turquoise eyes and brought out the rare silver threads in her auburn hair. “I’m not even sure how the whole Hawaiian shirt thing got started, but an entire section of my closet is dedicated to them. I’m most comfortable in T-shirts and jeans or shorts, and I haven’t put on nice pants and a button-down shirt in ages—it feels kinda good.”

  “I was thinking as I got dressed tonight that I need to go shopping for clothes that are more appropriate to beach town life. I don’t even own a swimming suit.” She leaned toward him and made the confession in a hushed tone.

  He played along, faking a look of horror. “What? I can’t believe they’ve let you stay here.”

  “May I refill your glass, Ms. Bennett?” Their server arrived with a large pitcher of iced tea and poured as Sarah
nodded. “Your food will be out in just a minute. Sorry it’s taking so long. We’re pretty packed tonight, so things are a little slow in the kitchen. I can get you some more bread if you like.”

  “Sure,” Sarah said. “And more apple butter? It’s delicious.”

  “You betcha.” The girl topped off Tony’s glass, picked up their empty salad plates, and disappeared.

  “How does she know my name?” Sarah asked, her brows pinched together in a frown. “As a matter of fact, I haven’t had to introduce myself to a single person in this town and, yet, everyone seems to know my name.”

  He chuckled. “That’s village life for you.”

  “It’s nice, if a little disconcerting.” She took the last piece of bread from the basket and dipped it in the container of apple butter that had come along with it.

  He was glad to see her eating with such gusto. She’d been downright skinny when she first arrived; now she was blooming like a rose. Although she was still small, her cheeks were rounder, and where she’d once been all angles and lines, now she curved quite nicely. More important, she was no longer hunched in on herself, no longer… What was the word? Cowering?

  He wanted to believe that new confidence was due in no small part to him. He’d worked hard over the past few weeks to develop an easy friendship based on trust and mutual attraction. Oh yeah, he knew she was attracted to him. However, he also realized she’d never do anything about that feeling if he pushed her. So he’d stayed in the background, a steady, safe presence, keeping in her line of vision without getting into her personal space.

  “Disconcerting?” he asked.

  “I’m guessing it’s hard to keep a secret around here.”

  “Well, we are a small town,” he admitted. “But you know, it’s not a gossipy place.”

  Sarah raised one brow. “Um, I’ve met Perry.”

  “Perry’s harmless. The Grind is a hangout, so he hears everything. He doesn’t indulge in vicious rumors or mean gossip, though. He just listens and knows what’s happening.” Tony rested his chin in his palm, unable to take his eyes off her. “He’s a great resource for Sheriff Gibson and me because his memory is incredible.”

  “So I want him on my side, right?” She popped the last bite of bread into her mouth as the server arrived with another warm loaf of bread.

  “You’re up next,” she said and picked up the empty basket.

  Tony gave the girl a smile and a nod before turning back to Sarah. “We’re all on your side, Sarah.”

  She stared at him, her face a morass of conflicting emotions. “I hope that’s true.”

  He read the fear in her eyes and made a decision. The time had come to bring up the eight-hundred-pound gorilla that was always present when they were together. “Will you tell me about Georgia?”

  * * * *

  Sarah had been anticipating the question for weeks, had even played out several scenarios in her mind from dumping everything at Tony’s feet to refusing to speak of her past at all. Now that he’d finally asked, she was completely tongue-tied. She dropped her gaze, too aware that the wrong choice might make or break her tentative friendship with the handsome deputy.

  Talking to Dr. Benton had been cathartic. Julie already knew most of the whole ugly story, and bits and pieces had come out with Carrie, Sophie, and Libby. But letting Tony in on the horrors of that time somehow made her feel vulnerable—if she revealed to him what she’d allowed for all those years, would that give him permission to treat her the same way? Was he even capable of such cruelty?

  He’s male, isn’t he?

  Immediately her conscience cried foul on that thought. Tony wasn’t Paul. He’d never once exhibited any behavior to prove he was capable of such viciousness. She trusted him—as much as she was able to trust any man—and for what it was worth, he was the first man she’d been even faintly attracted to since Paul.

  At least she assumed that attraction was what she was experiencing. Her emotions had been so stunted living with Paul that she barely recognized the flutter low in her belly when Tony came into view or the little shiver that tingled through her when he touched her, however briefly. Although the very thought of being physical with him, of having his hands and lips on her, left her nauseated and shaking with terror.

  “If you aren’t ready to talk to me, it’s okay.” Tony reached out a hand and let his fingertips brush hers across the table.

  With that tentative touch, she made up her mind. “No, it’s just that I–I don’t talk about this easily,” she said, her gaze meeting his.

  “I imagine not.” His eyes were so kind she almost dissolved into tears.

  Thank God, their table was tucked into an intimate corner of the sprawling restaurant. The low hum of other diners’ conversations, punctuated by the occasional shout of laughter, barely reached them out here on the screened porch that overlooked the bay.

  Sarah swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders as Tony sat still and silent, his fingers still resting against hers. She was certain that a single word from her would give her a pass, and he’d take the conversation right back to the warm July weather or what movies were playing at the Lakeside Drive-In or whether or not two refrigerators would be enough in the new kitchen at the shelter.

  Basking in the safe warmth of his gaze, she made a daring choice—she’d start at the beginning. Maybe she wouldn’t seem like such a fool if he understood how it had been at first. “I was so young when I met him—only eighteen. The day after graduation, a bunch of us were at the club, lying by the pool, getting a start on our tans.” She glanced down at their hands and drew enough strength to give him a cockeyed smile. “Ames, Georgia, still thinks it’s nineteen sixty-four. Lots of old money, lots of privilege—think cotillions, debutantes, mint juleps, and boys in pink polo shirts and docksiders, no socks.”

  “I’m already picturing you at sixteen, coming down the stairs in a long dress, carrying a bouquet of what? Gardenias?” He smiled and moved his hand closer, intertwining the tips of their fingers. “Did you wear a tiara?”

  She allowed the touch and her stomach unknotted ever so slightly. Her heart beat a little faster when she realized that he was trying to make this easier for her, using humor to help her take a step back from the story. “Nope, I was the rebel who wove flowers in her hair instead. Mama was crushed I didn’t want to wear the tiara she and my grandmother had worn. Her only consolation was that I agreed to wear the diamond eardrops and pendant that my great-great-great grandmother had hidden from the Yankees.” She let her Georgia drawl come through on the last word. Maybe, just maybe, she’d get through this without embarrassing both of them.

  “Did you live on a plantation?” he asked.

  “We didn’t—we lived in a very upscale neighborhood that was once a plantation. Now it’s mini-mansions and stables and a country club. My ancestors had a tobacco plantation, though, back before the War of Northern Aggression.” She kept the teasing lilt in her voice.

  “Would that be the kerfuffle we Yankees refer to as the Civil War?” He winked and reached for a piece of bread. “I guess it’s all a matter of historical perspective, right?”

  “Isn’t most of life?” She wrinkled her nose at him, delighted with his low rumbling chuckle at the rhetorical question.

  The server appeared with their food before he could reply, and for a few minutes, Sarah focused on shrimp scampi, roasted potatoes, and sautéed green beans. Tony was right, the cuisine was delicious—well worth the wait—and they ate companionably, talking about cooking and the history of the Fishwife and what there was to see and do around Willow Bay. When he offered her a fried shrimp from his plate, she gave him some scampi in exchange. They debated the relative merits of dessert, but decided against it, opting instead for second helpings of shrimp.

  Everything seemed so normal that continuing her personal horror story in this place felt discordant. She set her fork on her near-empty plate and met Tony’s eyes over the flickering votive between them. “Could we
go somewhere quieter to talk?”

  He paused, the last bite of potato midway from his plate to his mouth and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. Crap, did he think she was flirting, trying to…to seduce him? Did that sound like an invitation?

  She caught her breath, floundering. “I mean… What I meant was—”

  He put the fork down, reached for her, then pulled his hand back and placed both palms on the table. “Sarah, stop. It’s okay. I know what you meant.” His warm gaze captured hers, affection so clear in his eyes that her stomach flipped over. “How about we finish up here and head down to the beach? We can walk out on the breakwater and watch the sunset.”

  Her sigh of relief was louder than she meant for it to be, but he was still smiling, so she nodded. “Sounds perfect.”

  * * * *

  Sarah rarely noticed sunsets. She was always too focused on locking herself in, bolting doors, and closing window blinds or shutters against the approaching night and all the dread that came with it. Tonight though, the evening was awash with color—strokes of pink, orange, and deep red were painted over a darkening blue sky, turning the lake into a glistening pool of fire. She stopped at the edge of the beach and caught her breath at the sight of the ruby sun resting a hand’s width above the horizon. “Oh, my God!”

  Tony touched her shoulder. “What? What is it?”

  She smiled up at him. “The sunset. It’s... it’s beautiful.”

  “I know.” He led her over to a bench. “Here, take off your shoes and roll up your pant legs.” He sat and yanked off his sandals and placed them under the bench.

  Even his feet were handsome—not all hard and horny and rough-nailed. A startling thought considering she wasn’t all that crazy about feet in general and men’s feet in particular.