The women sat stunned, even as Joss’s face began to cloud with embarrassment. Within seconds Nancy and Jayme began shooting accusatory looks at her, as though she had stolen something from them.
“What?” Joss blurted. “I had nothing to do with this.There was either some mistake or—” Her eyes cut across the room and settled on her mother, who was sporting a broad smile. “I think I know the culprit behind this, and I promise I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
She started to rise, but Nancy held her back. “She means well, Joss. Probably just wants you to take a much-needed vacation. Come on. When’s the last time you’ve been away?”
“Chicago, remember?”
“No, no. I mean for a vacation, not a conference.”
Joss’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “I don’t know. It’s been a while.”
“Good,” Nancy said triumphantly. There was no longer any trace of disappointment in her voice. “Then you’re going to Sanibel Island. And I know for a fact you already have that week blocked off, so it’s perfect.”
“You have a week blocked off?” asked Sarah, surprised to hear Joss had planned some time off work. Workaholics rarely did.
Nancy was quick to supply the answer. “She always arranges a week off before Christmas to recharge. Exams are done, and she works on the curriculum for the next semester. And most of our nonemergency surgeries are on hiatus that time of year.”
“And what you didn’t mention,” Jayme said to her wife, “is that Joss then works on call right through the holidays.”
“But what about you guys?” Joss asked. “You two should take this trip, since you wanted so badly to win it. Seriously. Take it.”
Jayme shook her head in regret. “Thank you for that, sweetie, but we probably couldn’t go anyway. My aunt in Lexington is in the hospital right now, and we’re not sure she’s going to make it. I think the idea of a week away was wishful thinking on Nancy’s part.”
“True,” Nancy said. “Besides, I want to stick around for Roxi.”
“I’m sorry,” Joss said.
“Don’t be,” Jayme said. “In fact, nothing would make Nance and me happier than to have you take a week of sun and rest down there.” She bumped shoulders with Joss. “You need it, sweetie.”
Joss started to rise from her chair again. “I’m still going give my mother a whoopin’—yet again—and then I’m going to see what I can do about getting out of this trip.”
“Or,” Sarah said, lightly clamping her hand around Joss’s arm, “you could accept your mother’s gift. Maybe if you let her help you more often, she’d stop trying so hard.” What seemed so apparent to Sarah was that Madeline wanted her daughter to have a life. Wanted her to take a break from the almost physically impossible standards her father had set for her.
Joss sighed in resignation and sat back down. “Y’all are ganging up on me, aren’t you? All right, fine. I’ll try your strategy, Sarah. If it doesn’t work, I’m back to drawing up plans for her imminent demise.”
Sarah grinned at Joss. “I’m not buying the big meanie act.”
“Hmm. Guess I need work in that department. And since I’m a big softie in your eyes, why don’t we get out of here so you can show me your studio?”
“You’re not implying that we artists are softies, are you?”
There was a twinkle in Joss’s eyes and an unmistakable huskiness in her voice as she replied, “Only in the places that matter.”
Sarah’s heart pumped wildly, as it often did upon a certain look or phrase from Joss. They could have all the binding and nonbinding agreements in the world—verbal, written, notarized—but her body reacted to Joss with a mind all its own. There was something primal, something chemical, in the way they reacted to one another, and Sarah didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to resist what felt, with every fiber, inevitable.
“Have fun you two,” Nancy and Jayme called out in unison.
* * *
A bright overhead light flooded Sarah’s small, windowless basement studio on the edge of campus, momentarily blinding Joss. When she could see again, she noticed there was a radio-CD player on a shelf, a large easel and two smaller ones, a stool on wheels, a chair with a straight back and canvases—some blank, some painted—stacked against the walls. Tubes of paint were laid out on a tray, orderly and neat and ready to use. Brushes sat in a large coffee tin of Varsol, its odor faint. Nothing suggested Sarah had been working in here recently. The smells of paint and paint thinner were so faint as to be almost nonexistent.
“It’s starker than I imagined,” Joss said, “considering your genius with a brush.”
Without smiling, Sarah said, “It’s a place of work, that’s why I keep it workmanlike.”
“You haven’t been here in a while.”
Sarah shrugged, her cocktail dress and heels at odds with the austere character of the place. “I’ve been taking a little breather.”
“Why?”
Sarah’s face closed up, her lips pinching together in a hard line before she spoke. “I haven’t been feeling very inspired lately, I guess.”
Joss thought for a moment, then decided she would not let Sarah off the hook. Fireworks be damned. “Sometimes you have to rely on your knowledge, your technique, your work ethic, to push you through those times. I don’t always feel inspired operating on peoples’ hearts, you know. My patients don’t like to wait around for the mood to strike me. You can do this, Sarah. It’s what you do, who you are.” Joss saw the tiny pulse in Sarah’s throat throb harder with what she imagined was a rising temper.
“It’s not the same thing as with you. Lives don’t depend on my work.”
“What if they did? Don’t you think you have enough talent and skill to grind through those tough times and get the job done?”
“Joss, please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Joss took a step toward her. “Don’t believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself? Don’t push you when you refuse to push yourself? Don’t tell you how incredibly talented you are? Look what you did for me the other day. You told me what I needed to hear, even if I seemed ungrateful.” She took another step, close enough now to see the tiny, heartbreaking pools of tears beginning to collect in Sarah’s eyes. “What, exactly, do you not want me to do? Don’t tell you that your dad’s an asshole and to forget him and his petty, belittling criticism?”
The tears sloshed over, and Joss crushed Sarah against her. She held her tightly, stroked her back with the tips of her fingers, turned her nose into Sarah’s hair and inhaled the floral scent there. The urge to hold Sarah like this for hours, days, overwhelmed her. “He doesn’t matter, Sarah. Why can’t you believe that? Why can’t you believe you’re good enough?”
“Oh, Joss.” Sarah sniffled, and Joss could feel the wetness of her tears dampening her tuxedo shirt. “It’s not that simple. I try, but I keep hearing his voice in my head. I keep believing his crap. When I was away, in school, I felt like I could do anything. But here…”
“I know. I don’t always believe in myself either, as you now know.” Joss’s emotional outburst still embarrassed her. She hadn’t meant to expose that place in herself to Sarah, but she had, and she couldn’t take it back. Funny thing was, it had felt kind of good afterward. Like pressure had been released through a valve.
Joss slipped a palm under Sarah’s chin and tilted her face up. The anguish in Sarah’s eyes, in her trembling chin, brought a lump to her throat. “Come away with me,” she whispered before she had time to think about what she was suggesting.
“What? Where?”
“To Sanibel Island in two weeks. Just…come with me.”
“But, our agreement? Our…we…It might mean…”
Joss thumbed a tear from Sarah’s cheek. “Yes. It might.” And it probably would. They would go away together and if they were meant to make love, they would make love. All night long, if need be. On the beach, under the moonlight, in the pool, under the palm trees, in the cool sa
tiny sheets of a bed that would already smell of sex and suntan lotion. The tingling flared between Joss’s thighs, sizzled its way into her belly, her spine, and she knew with certainty she would not be able to keep her hands off Sarah. Her words came out in a rush. “If you can take a break from painting and I can take a break from surgery and teaching, we—we can take a little break from our agreement. We can have one week, Sarah. One week to be the people we want to be with each other. To give each other whatever we want to give, even if it doesn’t fit the parameters of our agreement.”
There was nothing, at this moment, that Joss wanted more than a week of having Sarah all to herself. Of waking up next to her and having the whole day and evening stretch out ahead of them like a blank canvas. And then, like paint that wasn’t permanent, they’d be able to wipe it away afterward.
Sarah’s eyes were wide, questioning, and then they were suddenly full of comprehension and quiet acquiescence. “Yes.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah noticed immediately the decline in Roxi. In a matter of days, the child had grown thinner, if that was possible, and her skin was flaccid, scaley, as if it might fall off at the slightest contact.
“Oh, Roxi, honey,” Sarah said, enveloping her in a gentle hug but not wanting to alarm her. “How are you feeling today?”
With a brave face, Roxi said, “Okay.”
“Are you sure you’re up to this?”
The girl nodded, and Sarah began to set up the small folding easel she’d brought. I’ll talk to Joss and Nancy, she resolved, and beg them to find Roxi a new heart before it’s too late. But she knew begging would do no good. Joss and Nancy wanted Roxi to be well as much as Sarah did. It was simply out of their control, and that was the frustrating part. Sarah didn’t know if she believed in God, but she believed in justice and felt sure that eventually, somehow, there was justice in this world for those who deserved it. And Roxi surely deserved a new heart.
“Have you been drawing some sunsets?” Sarah asked. “Because today we’re going to paint one. Would you like that?”
“Sure,” Roxi answered, pulling her sketchbook from the night table drawer and showing Sarah.
“That’s wonderful,” Sarah said. “Good job. I like the way you’ve got the sun sinking into the water. Now, how much do you know about primary and secondary colors?”
“Um, red, yellow and blue?”
“Yes, that’s right. Those are the primary colors.” Sarah clapped her hands together in excitement. “And if we mix combinations of those colors together, we get secondary colors like green, orange and purple. Watch, I’ll show you.”
From a large canvas bag, Sarah pulled out tubes of acrylic paints in the three primary colors. She placed blobs of each on a plastic palette that she could later wash, then took a brush and began mixing the colors, demonstrating how yellow and blue made green and how red and blue made purple and how red and yellow created orange. She then handed the brush to Roxi and let her experiment with different quantities of the paints to make different shades of the secondary colors.
While Roxi worked on manipulating colors, Sarah showed her a chart demonstrating warm colors (those along the red, orange, yellow spectrum, she explained) versus cold colors (the blues and purples). She could see the understanding take root in Roxi. Sarah remembered learning all about colors at that same age and how it made her begin to see things differently. Where she once saw things mostly for their shape, she suddenly began to notice their colors and all the intricate shades within. Learning about textures came after that, and from then on, Sarah’s world had irrevocably changed.
By the time Joss dropped by to say hi, Roxi had begun painting a new sunset—not over water this time, but behind a mountain.
“That’s awesome, Roxi,” Joss enthused, peering closer. “Your colors are fantastic. Look at that, they look so real. This shade of tangerine you’ve created looks good enough to eat!”
Roxi beamed with pride. “I learned all about them today from Miss Sarah.”
“I can see that. You’ve done a great job.” Joss turned to Sarah. “And so have you.”
Sarah’s heart began to race at the hint of desire she saw in Joss’s eyes and at the steadiness in her voice, which was like a deep but fast-moving river. Knowing that they were going away together in less than a week’s time was only intensifying her physical reaction to Joss. It was as though every nerve ending was exposed now, waiting in a state of high anxiety for the consummation of their physical and emotional connection. Although Joss had made it clear it was only to be one week of satisfying their physical needs and nothing deeper. When the week was over, the agreement would be reinstated. The damned thing was like one of Moses’s precious stone tablets, thought Sarah. At moments like these, she wanted to throw the stupid thing out the window and start over. With no rules and definitely no damned celibacy clause.
“Can we talk for a minute?” Joss whispered.
When Sarah joined her out in the hallway, she looked every bit the doctor in full control, ramrod straight and perfectly still—except for her eyes, which were jumpy.
“Are you all right?” Sarah asked, immediately worried. Was Joss about to cancel their trip? So help me, Joss McNab, if you’ve gotten cold feet I’m going to drag you into the nearest empty room and have my way with you. I can’t last much longer, dammit. Not in this state of heightened arousal.
“Yes, I’m fine. I wanted to check and see if you’re all right.”
Relief swamped Sarah. “You mean about Sanibel Island?”
Joss nodded, tension in her jaw.
Sarah drew out her smile, and it was like the air slowly leaving a tire. “I can’t wait.”
“Good. Me either.” Joss relaxed into a smile of her own.
“But I’m worried about Roxi. She can’t last much longer, can she?”
Joss’s face tightened. “No. If it goes past Christmas, it’s going to be tough. But Nance has pulled out all the stops. There’s nothing more we can do now.”
“We can hope,” Sarah said quietly.
“Yes. There is always that. Come here.”
Joss wrapped Sarah in a hug. It was warm, tender, reassuring—everything that was Joss when she let all her barriers down. Sarah could have stayed there forever.
* * *
Madeline’s arrival at the cardiac wing of the medical school was announced in the usual way—a quiet rustling that grew into a dull roar within minutes. She knew all the staff, most of whom dated back to Joseph McNab’s days at the school, and the newer staff had become acquainted with her via various functions or visits. She moved through the building like a yacht creating a massive wake, her energy and notoriety swamping everything smaller in its path.
“Ah, there you are, my darling daughter,” Madeline said, standing at the open door to Joss’s office. “Not working too hard, I hope.”
Joss closed her laptop to put it to sleep. It was exam time, which meant the school was pretty much empty of students.
“Nope, just goofing around with curriculum. I get a reprieve for a few weeks now.” It wasn’t her job to grade exams, thankfully.
“I’m glad to hear that. Do you have time for lunch?”
“Is this a peace offering for your dirty little manipulations at the foundation auction last week?”
“Maybe.” Madeline didn’t look sorry at all.
Joss gathered her coat and briefcase. “In that case, I’d be happy to accompany you to the deli around the corner. As long as you’re buying, of course.”
“I wouldn’t dream of you paying,” Madeline said, raising one finely shaped eyebrow.
The place smelled of fresh brewed coffee, baked bread, sautéing onions and hot beef. Joss ordered the corned beef sandwich—the place was renowned for its mounds of corned beef and cabbage—while Madeline ordered minestrone soup and a slice of homemade bread. They both ordered a cup of coffee.
“And yes,” Joss said, “before you ask, I’m still angry as a snake at you for bi
dding on that trip in my name.”
“Hmm. Still not going to admit I did you a favor?”
“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have gone behind my back.”
“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have.”
Madeline’s tiny smirk did not look contrite at all, and Joss gave her a castigating look until she amended her apology.
“All right, I shouldn’t have done it behind your back, but it was the only way I could get you two to stop this…this arrangement you’ve got and, and to…”
“And to what?” Joss was pretty sure her mother was never going to say “have sex.” But it might be fun if she did.
Her face as red and shiny as a ripe apple, Madeline sputtered again, then set her coffee mug down with a clank. “You and Sarah need time away together. To explore what might be there, outside of this business arrangement you have together.”
“That so-called business arrangement, I might remind you, was your idea, Mama.”
“Yes, and a fine one it was. But…”
The waitress appeared with their tray of food, and Joss’s mouth began to water at the thick sandwich—rye bread crammed with corned beef and cooked cabbage.
“I’ll admit,” Joss said around a mouthful of her sandwich, “you did good setting me and Sarah up in our little business arrangement. But as for something more, it’s not going to happen.”
Madeline shot her a look that could have stripped wallpaper. “I beg to differ.”
“Why?” Joss’s patience gave way to irritation. It was none of her mother’s business whether she and Sarah—or she and any woman for that matter—developed a romantic relationship.
“Because I see what she does to you.” Madeline averted her eyes and took a bird-like sip of her soup. “She makes you happy. Don’t deny it. And don’t you dare deny the chemistry between the two of you. I saw it myself the other night. I saw the way you looked at one another. Like you wished everybody else would disappear.”
No, Joss couldn’t deny it. Sarah did make her happy. Even when they were disagreeing about something, she wanted nothing more than to make things right with her. And yes, there was chemistry, and it was so much more than just the physical variety. Sarah made her think about why she was alone, about why she poured so much into her career, about why she was afraid to share her deepest thoughts and feelings with someone else. Sarah made her think more clearly and honestly about her father and about her parents’ marriage and about her own future than she ever had before. It was unpleasant at times, all that thinking and analyzing. Yet it felt like they were slowly working their way to something good, something honest and sustainable. Something that mattered. Something they could build upon. It was her instinct to fight it, but something told her she’d one day be on the losing end.
By Mutual Consent Page 13