“I couldn’t handle it. I just wanted to go. I wanted it to be over.” Sarah started picking up tissues and tossing them in the wastebasket. “I packed up, drove to Orlando, and got on a plane. Hell, my car may still be in the long-term parking lot there.” She laughed grimly.
“I doubt it.” Dr. Benton chuckled. “I imagine it was towed long ago and has probably been sold at auction by now.”
“Yeah, no doubt.” Sarah leaned back and closed her eyes. “I went to Denver first, hooked up with a shelter there, and got my new ID. Did you know that Sarah isn’t my real name?”
“No, but I suspected it.”
“Susannah.” Sarah whispered. “I’m Susannah Elizabeth Boatwright.” A pang spasmed through her as she said the name she’d blocked from her memory for the last eight years. “It was my great-great-great grandmother’s name. She was a teenager during the Civil War and she worked in the tobacco fields side by side with the slaves who stayed after the Emancipation. She was a Boone, then she married a Boatwright after the war. The Boatwright plantation was destroyed when Sherman marched on Atlanta and they never rebuilt. I was the first girl born in generations and my grandfather insisted I be named for her. God, it’s been years since I’ve thought of that.”
“Come back around, Sarah.” Dr. Benton stared over the top of her half-glasses and made a circling gesture with her pen.
“If…if I make love with Tony, I’m claiming happiness as a possibility. How do I deserve a happy life when Macy never had a life at all?” Sarah managed the words through clenched teeth.
“You aren’t responsible for her death.” Dr. Benton’s voice was quiet.
“If he hadn’t been so angry with me, he wouldn’t have stormed out.”
“What could you have done to keep him from getting mad?”
Sarah contemplated her answer, debating which answer would be the least painful, although at this point, she was beyond feeling anything at all.
“Sarah?”
“I could’ve kept my mouth shut that day.” Sarah twisted the tissue she clutched. “I was an idiot to bring up anger management therapy.” She met Dr. Benton’s steady gaze. “I knew how he’d react, but I took the chance and when he turned on me…” Shuddering, she swallowed and rubbed her face.
“So this”—Dr. Benton’s face was impossible to read as she indicated Sarah’s bedraggled state with a small gesture—“is all about your simple suggestion that he consider therapy? Not saying that one thing would’ve changed everything, and you and Macy and Paul would’ve lived happily ever after?”
Sarah glared. She was about three seconds from splintering into a thousand pieces. Her head ached and her heart hurt. Jerking the clip out of her falling-down hair, she pushed up off the sofa and stomped to the window. She stared out at the gloomy sky and then down at the people in the street struggling with umbrellas in the stiff breeze. Rage boiled over and even though she knew it wasn’t the psychiatrist she was furious with, she still shouted, “No, godammit!” Her hair flew in all directions, tangling across her wet cheeks when she whirled around. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“Of course I don’t think that.”
Jesus! Did the woman ever use any other tone of voice? She probably spoke in the same controlled way when she was in throes of passion with Mr. Doctor Benton. Sarah bit back the sudden urge to giggle at the mental picture of her staid therapist—perfectly still and calm—in bed under a humping faceless man.
God, she truly was going ’round the bend. It was inevitable. How the hell would she get Carrie’s car back to her if Dr. Benton had her taken away in a straightjacket?
Longing to bolt, she turned back to the window, folded her arms across her belly, and laid her forehead against the cool glass. “I should have left,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t catch that.”
Sarah squared her shoulders and padded slowly back to the couch. She shoved a pile of used tissues aside and dropped to the cushions before she met the doctor’s warm gaze. “I should have left the very first time he grabbed me. The first time he hit me or at least the first time he…he forced me.” She shrugged. “I should have taken Macy and gotten as far away as I could. But I didn’t. I stayed.”
“Why did you stay?”
Sarah shook her head. “So many reasons. Looking back, none of them were very smart.” She smoothed the wrinkled khaki of her shorts. “He was always so sorry. I loved him. So much of the time, he wasn’t a monster, and I thought I could see the good in him. I was sure I could help him. Later, long after Mother and Daddy were gone, I didn’t know where I’d go. He controlled everything. I guess I was more afraid of what he’d do if I left and he caught me than I was of the bad times.”
The list came out so calmly, Sarah honestly wasn’t even sure she was the one talking. She snorted a small laugh. “I sound like every other battered woman I’ve ever heard. I hate this—I hate being a victim. But I’m still afraid. He’s out there and he’s looking for me.”
“You’re not a victim anymore, Sarah,” Dr. Benton insisted. “You are not a victim. You’re an independent woman who’s been through hell and come out the other side stronger and wiser.” She set the notebook aside and leaned forward as if to emphasize her words. “You are no longer a victim.” She put both hands on Sarah’s knees. “And you, as much as anyone else on this planet, deserve to be happy.”
EIGHTEEN
“I’ve got an idea.” Shoving aside the box of clothing she’d been going through, Sarah wiped her brow and surveyed the organized chaos before her. Bags and cartons filled nearly half the space in the center of the huge room above Carrie’s garage, while the walls were lined with clear plastic bins.
When they’d put out a call for new and gently used clothes and shoes and household items, the Reillys had offered their garage as a landing zone for donations while renovations were taking place at the shelter. The villagers had responded with their usual generosity, and the Posse had spent the better part of the morning sorting items into the bins that Carrie had labeled according to size and gender.
“Oh my God, look at this!” Julie held up a powder-blue polyester leisure suit jacket and burst out laughing. “I’m pretty sure this can go in the theater bag, don’t you agree?” She glanced at Sarah, expectation in her blue eyes. “Sorry, sweets, what’s your idea?”
“Let’s go shopping for real.” Sarah dropped into the folding chair next to her box. “How about we clean up and find a mall?”
“There’s Grand Traverse Mall in the city.” After Sophie folded a shirt, she dropped it into the bin marked Women’s Size 14. “It’s got all the big department stores and tons of other shops.”
“I need some new summer clothes and that kind of stuff is bound to be on sale racks by now,” Sarah said. “I’ve only got these shorts and two other pairs and my tops are embarrassing. I want to buy a dress to wear to Libby’s fundraiser on Saturday, and I want some sandals to go with it. Plus, I need new underwear and I’m tired of sleeping in just a tank top and yoga shorts. I want some real jammies. Something feminine and pretty. Is there a Victoria’s Secret up there?”
Julie looked up from her spot on the floor where she was sorting men’s golf shirts. “Victoria’s Secret?” Her eyes narrowed. “Sexy lingerie? You’re looking for sexy lingerie? You got something you want to share with the group?”
Sarah gave her a brief scowl. “I just told you. I need new clothes.”
“Yeah, but lingerie? And a dress and stiletto sandals? That all points to one thing.” She wagged her finger at Sarah then winked. “Our girl’s embracing her feminine side, and I’ll bet I know the reason.” Her voice rose in a lilt.
“I didn’t say a word about stilettos,” Sarah denied, struggling to keep from grinning. “Or sexy lingerie. I said underwear and pajamas.”
“It was implied when you asked for a Victoria’s Secret. Underwear and pajamas say Target. However, you specifically asked about VS—that’s lingerie.” Julie waved her
away airily. “And I saw you and Tony at the Fishwife night before last, remember? You looked pretty…cozy.”
“We were eating dinner, nothing more.” Warmth flooded Sarah’s cheeks. She’d seen a lot of Tony since her gut-wrenching session with Dr. Benton a few days earlier because they’d both been working with a crew of volunteers to clean up the shelter grounds. Grabbing a bite to eat together after a hard day’s raking and digging just seemed natural.
While she’d worked in the gardens around the old place, pulling weeds and transplanting perennials, he’d trimmed the lilac bushes by the carriage house and took his turn on the lawn tractors. She had to confess to sneaking peeks at him one day when he’d removed his shirt under the noon sun, and his nicely furred chest gleamed with exertion. He might be a grandpa, but he still made her heart beat faster in his low-slung jeans, backward baseball cap, and the scruff of a couple days’ beard. She’d ended up moving to the front yard to keep from staring and, yes, possibly even drooling.
Thanks to the tireless volunteers like Tony, the shelter property was starting to look quite presentable with all the brush gone, and sporting newly planted gardens and lush green lawns. She was anxious for tomorrow when the men in the village were going to start building the elaborate play-scape swing set that Julie had begged from the wholesale club in Traverse City. Somehow, she’d also conned the store into donating last year’s floor sample outdoor furniture for the flagstone patio that some dedicated volunteers had uncovered behind the house.
Sarah was beyond grateful for Julie’s unyielding nudging and prodding of local businesses, so she couldn’t work up much of a pique over her friend’s teasing. And maybe there was more than a germ of truth to Julie’s insinuations. Instead she simply offered her an eye roll and a middle finger. “Let’s bag this chore and hit the mall, okay?”
“Sure.” Julie winked. “We’d love to help you pick out something lacy and enticing.”
“Jules, leave the poor woman alone.” Carrie blew a sigh into her bangs, fell back onto a pile of jeans—girls’ sizes six through ten—and closed her eyes. “I, for one, would love an afternoon out after sorting these clothes for three days.” She stretched, twisting her back one way and then the other before she sat up. “Shopping for Sarah will be much more fun.”
“I’m in,” added Sophie, laying a stack of carefully folded T-shirts into the Women’s Size M bin. “Let’s go get cleaned up and meet at Sarah’s in an hour. I’ll drive.”
* * * *
“Wow.” Tony blinked when Sarah greeted him at the door on Saturday night. “Just…wow.”
“Thank you, kind sir.” She looked amazing in a soft-green print sundress, strappy sandals that added at least three inches to her height, and her hair pulled up in a messy-chic bun. The skirt belled as she twirled around for him to get the full effect, and did he ever get it. The crisscross straps revealed more of her lovely freckled back than they covered and clearly, she was braless…unless the dress had one of those built-in things. Her hair was pulled up, but auburn tendrils framed her face. She was wearing makeup that brought out those blue eyes and made her luscious lips even more delectable.
“You went shopping.” He let the screen door close behind him. “You’re going to be the belle of the ball tonight.”
“Well, the fundraiser isn’t exactly a ball, although Libby said there would be dancing. She hired an oldies cover band for tonight, which thrills me no end. The music is a little before my time, but I remember my mom’s records from the sixties.”
“Yeah, that was music—the Stones, the Beatles, the Who, and anything at all from Motown,” Tony added.
“Oh, I love the Drifters!” Sarah cruised the apartment shutting windows while Tony stood by the door. Biting her lower lip, she paused at the thermostat. “I’ve never used the AC before, but the temperature isn’t supposed to go below seventy-five tonight, so maybe I’ll turn it on now. Then the place’ll be cool when we get back.” She adjusted the temperature, switched on a couple of lamps, and grabbed a filmy shawl that matched her dress and a small bag that Tony noted was too tiny to hold the damn Ruger.
Thank God.
“You’ve never used the air conditioner?” He held his hand out to help her on with the shawl, but she shook her head.
“I think I’ll carry it for now, thanks.” She led the way and then turned to secure both locks and drop her keys into her bag. “And, no, I don’t use the AC. It makes too much noise.”
“You should tell Noah—” He closed his lips on the words when she gave him a sideways glance and realization blossomed. Of course, the unit was fine, but she wouldn’t be able to hear over the sound of the fan blowing cool air. Another safety precaution that hadn’t occurred to him. He’d figure them all out eventually. For tonight, he simply nodded and followed her down the steps.
The lot at Nolan Farms Winery was packed and cars were already parked along the road to the lighthouse. Tony found a spot closer to the lighthouse than the winery, and he caught the look of skepticism on Sarah’s face when he opened the door of his truck to help her out. Her shoes weren’t made for walking any distance.
After a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, obviously prepared to go for it, so he kept his concern to himself. She stumbled once or twice along the gravel road before he touched her shoulder. “Oh man, those shoes aren’t going to make this jaunt, are they? I can drive you up to the winery or”—he offered what he hoped was a guileless smile—“I can carry you.”
Her eyes widened, but just as he prepared to swing her up into his arms, a golf cart slid noiselessly to a stop beside them. A grinning Will Brody was behind the wheel.
“Um, Julie sent me to fetch you.” He glanced from Tony to Sarah and back again before the grin shifted to a smirk. “I can always say I couldn’t find you,” he offered, clearly holding back laughter.
Tony dropped his arms and rolled his eyes. “Nice timing, dude.”
Sarah’s cheeks reddened as she gave Tony a pointed glance before slipping around him and into the front seat of the cart next to Will. “No, this is great. Thanks, Will.”
Tony narrowed his eyes at his friend and hopped onto the back of the cart, wrapping one hand around the post behind Sarah’s head as they spun gravel on the turnaround and zipped back toward the party.
No matter. There would be plenty of time to hold her in his arms when they danced.
As if she’d read his mind, Sarah chuckled. “If the poor guy carried me all the way to the winery, he wouldn’t be fit to dance later.”
* * * *
“Sarah!” Libby squealed as they climbed the steps to the crowded deck at the front of the winery. “You look amazing. Love your dress.” She pulled Sarah into a hug, before turning to Tony. “And check you out, Deputy Tony. You clean up nice.”
The winery was hopping—all three decks surrounding the barn were filled with people enjoying Libby’s delicious wines and food. Sarah caught the tantalizing scent of pepperoni pizza as a breeze ruffled the tendrils of hair on her neck. “Libby, you’ve done an incredible job. Look at this crowd!”
“Our daughter, Tess, did the promo.” Libby gazed out over the lawn below where tables were set up under a giant white canopy. “She hit the campgrounds and resorts with flyers, so a lot of these folks are tourists just looking for a good time, but most of the locals are here too.” Libby fairly bubbled with excitement. “Come on in and get a glass of wine and then head downstairs for pizza or a cheese and fruit plate. The band’s going to start pretty soon. Eli and Daniel and Henry built us a dance floor off the patio. Except for weddings, this is my first dancing event.”
“Eli?” Sarah glanced at Tony over her shoulder as he herded her into the winery.
“Libby’s son—he runs the Christmas tree part of the farm with Daniel, his dad.”
“Ah, okay. I knew she had a son. I didn’t remember his name.”
The winery was packed. Familiar faces greeted her from every corner with nods and smiles and hellos. Ov
erwhelmed, she halted her steps so suddenly that Tony bumped into her. “My God, the whole town’s here.” She tossed a general wave to Bertie from the yarn shop, Mel from the bookstore, Gary, the pharmacist at the corner drugstore, and Noah and Margie Dixon. Even Perry from the Daily Grind offered a salute and a grin from the corner where he sat downing pizza with a very attractive brunette. “Is that Perry’s wife?”
“Yup. That’s Carla.” Tony set a hand on her shoulder and guided her through the clutch of people at the tasting bar.
A lump rose in her throat. These lovely, lovely people. Damn near every villager had shown up to show their support for the shelter.
“You okay?” He peered down into her eyes, concern etching his face.
She swallowed hard. “I–I’m stunned at this turnout.”
“This town loves an event. And a good cause even more.” He led her down the steps at the back of the cavernous barn and out to a booth on the patio where he bought a chilled bottle of Libby’s Riesling and two huge slices of pizza while Sarah hovered nearby.
“Sarah!” A familiar voice called from an umbrella-covered table near the dance floor. Julie waved furiously. Sitting with her were Henry, Carrie, and Liam.
Tony tilted his chin in their direction, handed Sarah the wine and the glasses, and followed her as she threaded her way through the crowd. Her stomach tightened as a hint of familiar cologne wafted by and she cast her eyes around, searching, watching for…something out of place. Someone who didn’t belong. But it was nothing—just someone wearing Paul’s cologne. The clench of fear was habit. One she would probably carry with her forever. It had kept her safe for eight long years until it didn’t and she ran to this place, hoping for a reprieve. Shaking her head, she thrust those grim thoughts aside and smiled at the group seated at the table. “Where’s Sophie?”
Saving Sarah Page 15