by Crowe, Liz
“Sleep,” he muttered, pulling her close. “Let me hold you. No more fighting.”
Sara grinned and tugged the duvet over them both. “I love you,” she whispered. But he was already asleep.
* * *
Jack rolled over, smacking at the annoying animal that kept chirping near his head. “What the fuck?” He threw the clock across the room, which took care of the noise. But his head took up the reins and started clanging, his heart beating in time with the pain the way only a true bourbon hangover can do.
Groaning, he sat, noting the time. “Hey.” He poked Sara’s hip. She shifted, and rolled onto her stomach. “What time is the first game?” She sat up, hair tumbled around her face.
“Oh, um, not until eleven. What time is it?”
“It’s almost eight.”
She turned over, tugged the sheet up to her chest.
“Oh shit, I gotta go. I have to get the girls to breakfast. Blake had them all night.”
Jack groaned again when the sunlight streaming into the window hit his aching eyes. He watched her scrambling around for her clothes and recounted how badly he’d acted the night before. He’d been a full on idiot, made assumptions about what she’d done and with whom. Then solidified the idiocy by fucking her like an animal, before they could talk about it. He flopped back on the bed, pulled a pillow over his aching head.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She sat next to him but he flinched and moved away. He couldn’t take this anymore.
“But, Jack, I thought…”
“You thought wrong. It was a weak moment on my part. Won’t happen again. I assure you.” He tossed the pillow to the floor and sat up.
She pulled away, anger flashing in her eyes.
Good. Anger I can take.
He stumbled into the small kitchen, drank what felt like a gallon of life-giving water, then let his head droop between his shoulders.
This ends now, before we both end up lacerated one time too many.
He looked up to find her standing in the doorway, her jeans back on and wearing one of his shirts.
“You ripped mine, remember?” Her voice didn’t bode well for reconciliation, but that worked for him.
“Sorry. Listen, Sara, I’m sorry I brought the full-court pressure these last weeks. I obviously though we could make it work. I don’t think we can.”
She bit her lip and he swallowed hard against the urge to pick her up again and take her back to bed.
“Why? You thought you caught me hitting on the soccer coach? So you go all Tarzan and fuck me ‘til I scream then it’s all, ‘thanks, see ya later Sara?’ Really?”
Her voice rose. He gritted his teeth and stared her down.
“Yeah. Guess so. You obviously needed something this weekend that didn’t involve me. I show and you give me a nice ride. Now you’re free to go, find your coach. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re an amazing asshole, you know that? No, seriously, you turn the emotional valve off and on like it didn’t matter one bit who’s affected. You’re done, because you misunderstand one scene and to hell with me. To hell with trying to explain anything. Not worth it – why bother – fuck all of it.” She threw up her hands.
He closed the gap between them, pressing her against the wall. She turned her face away but he hissed into her neck.
“Sounds like a woman I used to know, way back on the porch at her brother’s lake house. When she wouldn’t let me explain anything either.” He shook with the effort not to kiss her. He wanted to so goddamn bad. But he released her, and she flounced away. The door made a satisfying slam on her way out.
He fell, boneless, into a chair and stared at the door. What in the name of all he held dear had he done? Pushed her away with a load of crap about “finding the coach?”
Oh, right. That’s good old Jack, ever suspicious, ever cynical, ever…alone.
* * *
The trip home was hellish. Katie had popped a fever Sunday morning, crying, sniveling asking for Uncle Jack, refusing Sara’s help. Blake hovered, worried, but that pissed her off even more.
She and Jack hadn’t exchanged two civil words the rest of the weekend, keeping it short and as hurtful as possible. By the time she climbed into her SUV Sunday, after letting Katie ride home with Jack she fairly quivered with stress. She managed to get a speeding ticket, then pulled into Ann Arbor around seven p.m.
After the longest shower on the planet, she wrapped up in a robe, poured some wine and flopped onto her couch. Refusing to spare another tear on Jack and all their missed opportunities, she pushed all thoughts of him out of her mind.
Determined to find that place in her head and her life where she could exist without Jack, or thoughts of Jack, or memories of Jack, she opened her laptop to peruse what crises had arisen in her absence. She tapped out a few replies, and after a couple of hours, refilled her wine glass and took a look at her non-work emails. One of them was an invitation from one of the moms—not Denise, thankfully. She’d never trust that bitch again—for a Memorial Day cookout at the river for the team.
She answered that she and Katie would be there. She got a near simultaneous reply. “What about Jack?”
Fingers curled over the keyboard, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself calm. Without answering, she picked up her phone and made herself insane by scrolling through her last text exchange with the man in question. The one where she’d invited him over for a nice quiet dinner, and her proposal.
The rings were still in the box, sitting on the side table where she’d left them Friday. They shone in their nest of black velvet, mocking her when she opened the box with a shaking hand.
Well, one thing’s for sure. I know how he feels all those times I rejected his offer of marital jewelry. Not to mention all the times I wouldn’t let him explain himself, made assumptions, pushed him away.
With a loud curse, she threw the ring box and her damn phone across the room watching in satisfaction as it shattered against the wall. The box bounced, and landed on the dark hardwood floor, unscathed.
Making a mental note to get to the phone store in the morning for a replacement, she turned back to her laptop. “You’ll have to ask Jack yourself, sorry,” she said in reply before hitting send.
Blake pinged her on Google chat.
“Hey your phone’s dead.”
“I know. I killed it.”
“You ok?”
“I’m the opposite of ok. That man is going to be the death of me. You and Dad were right. I should have listened.”
“You’re being obtuse. But I get it. I understand the need to guard yourself against being hurt but I think it’s time you and he got past that. You have to decide what’s best. You know what you, and your daughter need, not me or dad. I’m here for you tho, you know that.”
“I do. Thanks.”
She saw Jack sign in on Google, and then ignore her even though she knew he could see she was live. Her fingers hovered, itching, needing to reach out but she wouldn’t. Couldn’t give him the satisfaction. Never again. Of course, her phone was dead and if there were an issue with Katie. She typed quickly.
“Katie ok?”
“Yes. Fever’s gone. She’s in bed. I’ll take her to school tomorrow.”
“Ok.”
His next words surprised her.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I,” she responded, then turned the damn thing off and went to bed. When she woke, her pillow clung to her face, wet from tears.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sara sipped her beer and watched the pack of kids run through the picnic area, across the open field and into the woods. Katie led the pack, the usual set of bruises on her arms and legs prominent in her shorts and swimsuit top. She’d stayed slightly under the weather all week but never sick enough to warrant a doctor visit.
She leaned back in her camp chair, unable to engage in much conversation with the parents around her. She wished she hadn’t agreed to
come. Jack wasn’t here, which both disappointed and aggravated her. Katie’s words about the matter hadn’t helped.
“He has a fancy date tonight, Mama. He showed me his monkey suit. But I told him it wasn’t a real monkey suit “cause it didn’t have a tail or ears.”
“A fancy date, huh? With who?” she’d asked although she’d known.
“Shannon,” the girl had said, giving her a close look. “But he says it’s something he has to do, that he’d promised her he’d do and he always keeps his promises, right Mama?”
“Yes. Right.” She’d kissed the girl’s forehead, frowning when her mom-radar-lips sensed heat. “You’re hot again, baby. Let me take your temperature.” But the girl had run to her room, unwilling to miss the picnic. Sara had dosed her with some ibuprofen and chalked it up to her ongoing cold. The girl was the biggest social butterfly and would have to be peeled away from attending a team picnic, especially since they were going to play more soccer.
At one point during the long afternoon, she noticed Katie at the edge of the crowd, bent at the waist. She stood, and made her way through parents—all staring at her, she was convinced, knowing her colossal screw up that had involved getting “caught” with the coach at the tournament. Fucking gossips.
“Honey? What’s wrong?”
“Don’t know Mommy. My tummy hurts really bad.” But she straightened, her eyes bright. Sara took in her filthy face, covered with mustard, chocolate, and God only knew what else.
Her mom radar pinged, making her wince. “Let’s go. I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“No, I’m fine. Mateo’s gonna take us over to the field to play a game. I gotta play mom! I’m fine. Really.” Sara stepped away, reluctant and now on high mom-alert.
“Well, if it happens again…” But the girl was gone in a whirl of denim and pink—her second favorite color after purple.
Sara sat in the crowd, feeling utterly alone. Watching the kids play, lead by Matteo who had, with reason, avoided her like a plague virus, distracted her as she sipped her second beer. Lila sat and tried to chat with her but gave up after Sara apologized and said she wasn’t in a mood to talk.
After a few more minutes, a shout made her look up. The shout was no different than any other, but it set her teeth on edge in a way she knew demanded her attention. She stood, and saw Mateo running towards her, Katie clutched in his arms.
Great another busted ankle or hurt wrist or…
“Sara! Get the car. We have to take her to the hospital.”
“What?”
“Just get the damn car!”
On autopilot, she brought the car to a screeching halt in front of him. He piled the girl’s unconscious body into the back, cradling her in his arms. The family stood, silent. “Go! Go! Hurry!” She did, teeth clenched as Mateo soothed and tried to cajole the girl out of her faint. “Dear God she is burning up with fever, Sara! Go faster.”
* * *
By the time she pulled into the University emergency department, her teeth were chattering with fear, and she could barely get out of the car. She watched as a team hustled out and piled Katie’s tiny, limp form onto a way-too-big-for-her stretcher.
Jack. She needed Jack.
She ran down the hall following the medical team, grabbed her phone and sent him a text. She lost sight of Katie at one point, and stood in the middle of the busy emergency room chaos, tears streaming down her face. When she heard a familiar voice, she had to grab the wall to keep from collapsing.
“Craig,” she whispered and ran around the corner. His eyes widened and he handed a chart to a nurse, catching her before she fell. “Katie…” She didn’t get another word in. He handed her off to the same nurse, and dashed away bursting into the triage area with a quiet calm that made everyone take a step back.
Sara followed him, watching as Craig gave orders and worked around her daughter’s lifeless looking body. The sight of so many people hovering, then the sound of a loud alarm which brought even more doctors to the room made her want to throw up, or die. She sunk to the floor, against the wall, as the staff swirled around her, as if she weren’t even there.
When they got her stabilized, Craig came out and pulled her to her feet.
“Sara, listen to me. Katie’s appendix has burst. We have about three minutes to get her into surgery to keep her from drowning in her body’s own poison. Here, sign this.” Sara’s hand shook so badly she couldn’t hold the pen.
She heard him before she saw him. Jack barreled around the corner, in full black tie, the lovely Shannon trailing behind. He gripped Sara’s arm.
“Where is she?” Craig gave him the same story.
Minutes. Drowning. Poison.
He signed the paper. A nurse started to protest, to say only Sara had the authority but the room’s buzz had reached a fever pitch. Sara couldn’t see or hear. Arms reached out and eased her into a seat.
Her beautiful daughter looked so small in the giant bed, hooked up to machines that were, apparently, keeping her alive.
“He can sign.” Craig’s voice pierced her fog as she stumbled over to touch Katie’s pale face.
“Fucking-A Sara, what has she been doing?” Jack was on her other side, walking fast as they made their way to the elevators. “She’s covered in dirt and bruises.” The girl flinched but a nurse calmed her, then spoke to Jack.
“She hears you, Dad. Keep talking to her.”
Jack’s wild stare caught hers. Anger and helplessness oozed from his every pore. He glared over her shoulder. “Him?” She turned and saw Matteo stood in his soccer gear, head down. “Really?”
“Yeah, Jack, he saved her. Got her here on time. Fuck you and your monkey suit and over-dressed date.”
“Mom, Dad, can we focus on the little girl a minute?” The nurse’s calm voice made them both look up.
“I’m not her…” Jack started, then stopped. Tears dripped down Sara’s face onto the bed.
Craig stood at his side, another paper in hand. “Katie needs a massive transfusion and I would donate but I can’t.” Jack stared at him. “Sara and I are type A. Katie’s in the B group. That leaves you. I assume you’re—”
“I’m B positive. Show me where? When?” His head spun but he kept his focus.
“Here. Right now.” Craig pointed him towards a nurse. He turned and caught Sara’s eyes. His expression spoke volumes. “We’ve got to get her upstairs. The staff will bring you up.” He disappeared into the huge elevator with her baby, her heart, her only reason for living.
Jack’s daughter.
She squeezed her eyes shut, relieved, and yet sad that the obvious fact of Katie’s parentage was now no longer anyone’s secret.
Mateo stood by her, but she barely noticed him. She sent texts to Blake, Julie, and her parents, who were down in Florida, before sinking into a chair. A nurse brought her water. After about thirty minutes, she saw Jack at the far end of the hall, rolling his sleeve back down. Shannon spoke to him. He shook his head and held her off. The woman seemed agitated, but he put an arm around her and guided her to the door.
A few minutes later, he reappeared alone.
“Appendicitis has pretty distinct symptoms.” His voice curled inside her head like smoke. “You didn’t notice? Too busy with the new boy toy?” She stood without a word, and followed the nurse upstairs to the surgical waiting room.
* * *
They sat at opposite ends of the waiting room, alternatively glaring at or ignoring each for the next hour and a half. At one point, she shivered so violently she thought her teeth would rattle out of her head. She looked up to see him, holding out his coat. When she looked away, he dropped it in her lap muttering words that sounded like “stubborn” and “impossible.” She slipped her arms into it, sucking in breaths of him, soothed in spite of her anger and terror.
Craig finally reappeared, his face grim. She sat, and let him come to her. Jack moved to sit beside her.
“It must have been a slow rupture. I know you said
she’d had off and on fevers, flu-like symptoms, for a couple of weeks, right?” Sara nodded. Jack grabbed her hand but she hardly felt his touch. “She has peritonitis, inflammation of the stomach lining, because of the rupture that none of us caught. I saw her myself.” He looked at Jack. “So don’t blame yourselves—or each other. Appendicitis is one of the hardest things to diagnose.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“She’s stable, on some strong antibiotics, but the next twenty-four hours…” Sara let out a sob. Jack’s hand tightened on hers.
“You both need to know all of this. She lost blood inside her abdomen, which is why I wanted the transfusion.” He looked at Jack. “You saved her life with that donation.”
Air, I need air.
No. I need to see her. I have to see her, hold her. My baby needs me.
She stared at Craig, panic rising in every pore of her body. “Why did they have to, um, revive her?”
“She was in septic shock by the time you got here. Her blood pressure was practically zero.”
Jack let go of her and put his head in his hands. She stared at him a second before acknowledging that his shoulders were shaking. She reached for him, needing him, knowing he needed her.
“Sara!” The sound of Blake’s voice made her jump up and run to him instead.
Jack stood slowly.
“Where is she? I need to see her.” His deep voice rumbled in her ears.
“She’s being moved to recovery. You and Sara are the only ones allowed in there but not for about fifteen minutes. She’ll stay there for us to monitor her blood pressure. She isn’t stable enough to move yet.”
Jack stood and without a word to anyone, stalked out of the room with its soothing blue décor, soft chairs and subtle music. Maureen joined Blake, Rob and Julie in the hall but he walked past them on a mission to somewhere. Sara watched him go, the flow of tears blurring her vision of his retreating back.