They studied a couple of the oil paintings in glass cases, one a scene of a Plains Indian camp, the other portraying a family’s summer stroll through a park. Next they stopped before a barn scene on oil, and Sarah had Roxi point out all the animals and then discuss the techniques the artist had used.
“Hi Roxi, Sarah.”
She would recognize that voice anywhere, especially its low, intimate timbre that sent pleasurable shivers up and down her spine. She turned around, and there stood Joss with that damned home-run smile of hers.
“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked. She hadn’t invited Joss to join them. Hadn’t, in fact, seen her since her father had come out of surgery three days ago.
“Nancy, er, I mean Dr. Nancy told me y’all would be here, so I thought I’d drop by and say hello. That okay with you, Roxi?”
“Sure.” Roxi beamed, her eyes taking in both women. “Dr. Joss, is Miss Sarah your girlfriend now?”
“Um, well…” Joss began blushing, which gave Sarah some secret satisfaction. It was a rare thing to see Joss put on the spot. But her blush quickly evaporated, replaced by the cocky grin. “What do you say Sarah, are you my girlfriend yet?”
It was Sarah’s turn to blush. She wouldn’t play this little game with Joss in front of Roxi, even though she was tempted to say something cutting and sarcastic, like, Don’t ever get yourself a girlfriend, Roxi. They’re a pain in the butt. “Roxi, what do you say we go check out some of those interactive stations upstairs?”
“Okay,” the girl said, making for the staircase with the typical attention span of a nine-year-old.
“Very clever,” Sarah mumbled to Joss, who was half a step behind her. “Deflecting Roxi’s question onto me.”
“You could be, you know.”
Sarah nearly tripped, but regained her balance quickly. “Could be what?” Fine. If Joss wanted her to play this little game, then so be it. She’d make her spell it out. Or spit it out, as was more likely the case.
“What Roxi said.”
Yeah, right, Sarah thought. Joss had no more intention of having a girlfriend than Sarah did of working an office job, like her father wanted her to. She walked on in silence until they caught up to Roxi, who’d made a beeline to one of the wooden sit-down easels designed for kids. She picked up a colored pencil and immediately began drawing.
“I’ve learned some things recently,” Joss said gravely, the playfulness gone. “Things that have made me reflect differently on the way I’ve felt about…you know, things. Everything, really.”
“You’re speaking in riddles,” Sarah said, knowing she was being cruel, but she couldn’t afford to open the door to her heart. Not even a crack. If Joss had something to say to her, she could damn well come out with it. “And this isn’t the place for it.”
“All right.” Joss brushed lightly against her shoulder. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk.”
“No, Joss.” Sarah took a step away. Being this close to her ignited a slow burning fire in her belly. “I don’t want to talk. It’s too late for talk.” Talk hadn’t got them anywhere, and there was no reason to think it would now.
“But, Sarah—”
Sarah set her jaw and speared Joss with a glare, trying to convey that she would not relent. Getting together to “talk” would only lead to another fight. Or sex. And either way, it would end with Sarah’s heart breaking all over again. “Talk is cheap, Joss. And I’ve had all the cheap talk I can stomach.”
* * *
On her iPad, Joss read over Peter Young’s chart with his latest scan and ECG before taking out her stethoscope and listening to his heart, moving it gently over his chest. There was only a slight murmur, which had been receding, and his heart sounded strong. His recovery was going well, and she told him he should be fit to go home in a day or two.
“I guess I need to thank you for everything, doc.”
“No thanks necessary, Mr. Young. Just doing my job.”
“I thought…because you’re a friend of Sarah’s, that maybe…maybe you took special care.”
Joss looked into the eyes that were so much like Sarah’s. Anger pulsed through her. She didn’t respect this man for the way he treated his daughter, especially the way he’d behaved toward her at the Christmas fundraiser, belittling her in front of others. It had since taken every ounce of her experience and professionalism to treat him with dignity and respect. But now she could hardly contain the bitterness, the near hatred that coursed through her veins for this man who seemed so utterly contemptuous of a woman who…a woman… Joss took a deep breath. Her chest hurt, as though there were vise grips around it. She’d lost Sarah, and it was not something she’d ever forgive herself for. But this man had thrown Sarah away over and over again.
It took great effort to keep her voice equable. “Mr. Young, I need to talk to you about your daughter.”
Joss pulled up a chair and ignored the look of surprise and discomfort on her patient’s face. Too bad. Peter Young needed to hear what she had to say, even if it meant crossing a line and going outside professional boundaries. If it was too late for her and Sarah, it wasn’t, perhaps, too late for him and his daughter.
“You,” she said, steel in her voice, “need to treat Sarah like an adult. And not just any adult, but like a woman deserving of your respect. And your thanks.”
“My thanks? Thanks for what? For the tens of thousands of dollars she’s cost me over the years?”
“Money? That’s all you care about? I would give Sarah every last penny I have if she’d…if she’d…” Oh hell. Sarah wasn’t a woman whose affections could be bought. “She stood by you, Mr. Young, even during all the times you treated her like crap. She’s your daughter, your only child. Are you punishing her because her mother left you? Is that it?”
His face beet red, Peter Young began to stammer that Joss didn’t know what the hell she was talking about.
“You’re right, I wasn’t there and I don’t know the whole picture.” She needed to get back to what she did know. “Have you ever thought that maybe she let you support her as a way to get your attention? To remain close to you? And did you ever stop to think that maybe your disdain for her art has been what’s held her back? That maybe she would have been successful a whole lot sooner if you’d shown her the respect and approval she wanted and deserved?”
“What do you mean successful a whole lot sooner? Don’t tell me she finally sold a painting!”
“Oh, she’s done more than sold a painting.” Joss wouldn’t tell Sarah’s father about her good fortune with the furniture chain nor the news that a gallery in Louisville had offered her an exhibit, something which Roxi had let slip at the Frist Center the other day. “Sarah’s financially independent. Which should worry you, Mr. Young.”
“Worry me how?”
It was tempting to twist the knife a little, but Joss was careful to avoid sounding like she was enjoying this turn in the conversation. “She doesn’t need your money anymore. But what she does need and will always need is a father. Don’t make the mistake of your life by letting her go.”
Joss thought about the absence of her own father. What hurt more than anything was that they’d never really taken the time to get to know one another. She’d never had a heart-to-heart with the man, and if she could go back now, she’d pepper him with a million questions. And not medical questions. She’d ask him about his regrets, about what she meant to him, about how he really felt about her mother and their marriage, and if a stellar medical career had been worth the cost of almost losing his wife and never truly knowing his daughter.
Peter Young was silent for a long time, and Joss watched an aggregate of emotions flicker across his face—anger, resentment and, finally, resignation.
Joss stood to go. The rest was up to him. “Just love her, Mr. Young. That’s all she wants. It’s all,” she said in a voice sandpaper rough with her own anguish, “any of us really wants.”
In her office moments later, Joss sat behind her
desk and let her eyes wander the room. Four large framed certificates on the wall lauded her medical and educational accomplishments. Near them was a framed photo of her and her father at her med school graduation right here at Vanderbilt, standing below the sign that featured his name in big letters. Joseph McNab’s legend still loomed large here, following her wherever she went on campus and in whatever she did at the hospital and at the medical school. The only time she’d been out from under his shadow were the two years she’d spent at Stanford and then the few years following his death.
Maybe, she thought, tapping a pen on the felt blotter of her desk, it was too late for her and Sarah, but it wasn’t too late to remake herself, to start over, to live in her own light, to live without her father’s ghost sitting on her shoulder. All that remained was convincing herself that she deserved to take the first step.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sarah sipped champagne from a crystal flute and tried not to let her father’s presence at her Louisville gallery opening throw her any worse than it already had. When he and Linda had walked in, wanting it to be a surprise, they’d said, Sarah had nearly fainted from the shock. Even more shocking was that her father acted like he actually wanted to be here. He was congenial to the curator and other guests, and his smiles actually involved his mouth for a change. Sarah marveled at how effortlessly he seemed to be pulling off the proud father routine, considering she’d never seen it before. She had to admit the act didn’t seem disingenuous. There was a real twinkle in his eye, a lightness to his step that was brand new. He’d even asked Sarah pointed questions about her paintings and tilted his head to listen keenly to her answers.
“Okay,” she later whispered to Linda. “Where is my father and what have you done to him?”
Linda fixed Sarah with a mischievous smile. “I’m wondering if Joss did more to him than fix his heart valve.”
“If she did, I owe her big-time. He’s almost human now.”
Linda gave her a warning look. “Sorry,” Sarah said. “I’m just not used to seeing him this way.”
“I think maybe he’s beginning to appreciate the important things in life after his health scare. And I know he still has a long way to go in repairing his relationship with you, but tonight is a start, don’t you think?”
Sarah’s father had never attended one of her exhibits before—her student showings during college and graduate school. He’d not even shown a cursory interest until now, but Sarah wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You’re right. I think he and I need to have some serious conversations, but for now, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Linda leaned closer and lightly dug her nails into Sarah’s forearm. “Hmm, I think things just got a lot more interesting around here. Look who’s walked in!”
Not sure she could handle any more surprises tonight, Sarah flicked a glance at the door. Three couples had come in, clustered together, but Sarah didn’t recognize them.
“No, no,” Linda whispered in excitement, “over by the sculpture.”
Sarah’s stomach bottomed out at the flash of short blond hair and the tall, slender build of the woman in the well-tailored suit. “Oh my God, it’s Joss. What’s she doing here?”
Linda shrugged, but her grin made Sarah highly suspicious.
“Did you know she was coming?”
“Actually, no, I didn’t. But I wish I’d thought to invite her.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I might not survive this evening, you know. First Daddy, now Joss. I think I need another drink.” An entire bottle, more like.
“Good idea.” Linda winked and snatched her empty glass from her hand. “I’ll go get you one.”
Joss circled the perimeter of the room, but there was no doubt where the focus of her attention lay. She kept glancing at Sarah—nervously, Sarah thought. But once she materialized at her side, she was maddeningly cool and breezy, affecting an I-was-just-in-the-neighborhood air that Sarah didn’t buy for a single minute.
“Hello, Sarah. Congratulations on the show.” Joss smiled, but it was lacking the tiniest shred of confidence, Sarah realized happily. She liked having the ability to throw Joss off balance.
“Thanks.” Sarah narrowed her eyes at Joss. “You drove all the way to Louisville to tell me that? You could have sent a card or a text.”
“No. Telling you in person was definitely worth the five-hour drive.”
“Uh-huh. And the real reason you’re here? Besides that?” Sarah didn’t want to hope against hope that Joss had somehow come to her senses about them, because she knew the odds of that happening were about the same as her work fetching Warhol-like prices. Nothing had come close to convincing her that Joss was anything more than a lost cause.
“Dr. McNab.” Sarah’s father stepped between them and practically embraced Joss. “How wonderful to see you.”
There was a flash of surprise in Joss’s eyes before she blinked warmly at Peter Young. “Nice to see you here too, Mr. Young. And please call me Joss.”
Sarah’s father squeezed Joss’s elbow, the affectionate gesture sending another wave of shock through Sarah. “Sure thing, Joss, as long as you call me Peter. It’s so nice that you could come to Sarah’s showing.”
“I could say the same to you,” Joss replied, not unfriendly, but the dig wasn’t lost on Sarah or her father.
“Well, let’s not beat around the bush,” he said, his hand still on Joss’s elbow. “It’s thanks to you that I’m here at Sarah’s exhibit. And I don’t just mean because of my health you helped me regain. Your…conversation with me helped me see things differently. And appreciate certain things.”
Sarah looked from Joss to her father, having no idea what the hell was going on between the two, but her senses had sharpened to a new level of alertness.
“That wasn’t a one-way street,” Joss said quietly. “I needed to take some of my own advice.”
Growing more impatient by the second, Sarah finally implored them to tell her what the hell was going on. But Joss shook her head lightly and took Sarah’s arm to steer her away. “Will y’all excuse us for a few minutes?”
“Of course.” Peter winked at Joss, ignoring Sarah. “Take all the time you need.”
“What the hell was that all about?” Sarah hissed as Joss guided her to a darkened room that was roped off to visitors. She unclipped the rope to allow them to pass, then clipped it behind them. Light spilling from the hall illuminated a cushioned bench, which Joss led her to.
“Sit, please,” she said, and Sarah did. “There’s something I need to know first. Are you with someone else right now?”
“With someone? I’m here with Linda and my dad, if that’s what you mean.”
Joss’s breath came in rapid bursts. “No, I mean, you’re not…Do you have a girlfriend, Sarah?”
“A girlfriend?” The worry on Joss’s face was almost comical in its intensity. “Why would I have a girlfriend?”
“Well, that woman you were with at your New Year’s Eve party. You never really told me if she’s…if you and she…”
“Oh God, Joss, she is not. And never was. Jesus, is that what you think of me?”
Joss collapsed onto the bench beside her. “Oh, thank you Lord. And no, that’s not what I think. But I’ve been a little, I don’t know, insane since Christmas.”
“Insane? Joss, you’re one of the sanest, most methodical, reasoned people I know.”
“Which is why I’ve been such a complete idiot these last few weeks.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Come to my hotel room tonight and let me explain.”
Sarah drew in a deep, unsteady breath. She would not be able to keep her hands off Joss if they ended up in a hotel room. Nor would she want Joss to keep her hands off her. Alone together, Sarah knew their bodies would mutiny and take over the ship. “You know that would mean trouble.”
With a featherlight touch, Joss cupped Sarah’s chin and let her eyes roam over her face. “God knows, I
’ll want to make love to you until my dying breath. But it’s not about that, Sarah. Not this time. Please.”
A voice in her head screamed at her not to do it, not to believe Joss. But her heart knew different because there was something about Joss that told her things had changed. That Joss had changed. Sarah stood, unsure and a little frightened. As resistant to change as Joss had been all this time, she too had resisted giving Joss a chance to change. She didn’t know if she could survive her heart ending up in a million pieces again, but she also knew she was lonely without Joss. And sadder than she’d ever been, and she was damned tired of it. “All right.”
* * *
“Would you like a drink?” Joss asked, stalling so she could steady her nerves. Being alone in a hotel room with Sarah was almost more than her body could handle, but she had things to say to Sarah. Important, life-altering things.
“Thanks but no. Any more alcohol tonight and I’ll probably end up throwing myself at you.”
There was no humor in Sarah’s voice, but there was a hint of challenge in her eyes, and it was all Joss could do not to rush to the empty place beside her on the sofa and take her into her arms. It’d been so long since she’d held Sarah, yet Joss remembered distinctly the scent of her, the way her skin felt beneath her fingers and her lips, the way she precisely shifted to fit herself to Joss’s body. There were certain memories in life that never faded, and the solid feel of Sarah against her was one of those.
“Was it you,” Sarah asked, “who somehow got my father to realize what an ass he’s been to me?”
“Not really. But I did tell him it would be the mistake of his life if he let you go.”
Joss got to her feet, wanting to stand for what she was about to say next, even though dropping to her knees and begging Sarah’s forgiveness wasn’t a bad idea either. She did want Sarah’s forgiveness, but not before she said what so desperately needed to be said.
“Sarah, your father isn’t the only one who would be making the biggest mistake of his life if he let you go.” She grasped Sarah’s hands. “I don’t want to be without you in my life. I don’t want to do any of what I’m doing if you’re not here to share it. Letting you go would be the one thing in my life I would forever regret. And that I could never recover from. Please…” Her voice shook from the sob that had amassed in her throat. “Please come back to me. I love you, Sarah. So much.”
By Mutual Consent Page 25