Already annoyed with the flare in her MS symptoms, anger surged through Sarah. “I’m fine.” She snapped the words as she fought back a yawn.
“Okay.” Mark held up his hands in defeat then grinned. “I missed you this week.”
His smile and words warmed her heart. “I missed you, too. I’m so behind on sewing my quilt blocks, but I’ve been working late and had two church meetings.” Sarah tried to suppress another yawn but failed.
“Have you been getting enough rest?” Mark’s beautiful hazel eyes were hidden as he narrowed his gaze on her.
“I went to bed late last night, that’s all.” She wasn’t about to tell Mark that she’d been up past midnight every night this week. He was beginning to sound like Karla and her mother. She didn’t need that today. It was taking every ounce of her strength to stand. She looked around for a bench. “I’d like to sit down.”
“There’s a chair over there.” Mark crooked his elbow.
Praise God that Mark was a gentleman. Having him to lean on made her walking easier. She eased into the chair.
“Would you like some coffee? They have a stand over there.” Mark pointed.
“I’d love some.”
Sarah listened to the anxious chatter of the other walkers. She’d looked forward to this day, but now she felt too tired to enjoy it.
Mark handed her a cup of coffee then sat on the ground next to her. “They have doughnuts, too. Would you like one?”
“No thanks.” Sarah sipped the bitter beverage brewed stronger than she really liked.
“Is any of your family coming?”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I doubt it. They aren’t too supportive of my activities.”
“I don’t know two of the people who gave you very generous donations. I assumed the couple with your last name was your parents.” Mark winked.
“Yes, the other one was my friend, Karla.”
“Isn’t she the one—”
“That thinks I’m doing too much? Yes, but then that seems to be the general consensus of everyone I know.” Sarah looked pointedly at Mark.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he set his jaw. “Sarah, I think their concerns are valid. You don’t rest enough. Fatigue is a huge issue for MS patients. You are overdoing it.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’m just proving that a person with MS can lead an active life.” She let the terseness she felt flow into her words.
“The key word there is active. You are leading an over active life. I don’t think I could keep the schedule that you do, and I don’t have MS.”
Sarah blinked. She’d never really considered that before. Had she been this involved in activities before her diagnosis? She’d worked overtime on her old job during the holiday season. She’d always been involved in at least one church committee. Really the only thing new was Mark, the quilting class, and the MS walk.
“Discouragement is not what I need today.” Her own body’s rebellion was enough to handle without everyone else thinking she should give up. But she’d learned from Job’s story that if she trusted God, He’d help her to understand this affliction. See her through. After all, He’d already provided so many good opportunities for her that she shouldn’t even be grumbling about her MS symptoms today. “I’m finishing this walk.”
Mark pursed his lips. “Well, I’m staying right beside you. You do realize that I recognize the subtle MS signals that maybe your mom and Karla miss.”
“Like?”
“The shuffle of your feet to hide the slight limp or sliding your feet along versus taking a step.” Mark touched her forearm.
She pulled it away. “You are the one person I felt was on my side. Because of your mom I thought you understood how important it is for me to continue on with life as normal as possible.” She tried to push off the chair, but her right arm slid off the canvas arm. Mark’s strong arms stopped the chair’s wobble.
“Sarah, let me help you.” He stood to the side of the chair and wrapped his arm around her. She leaned into his warmth, and as he lifted, she stood.
“Thank you.” Her appreciation came out more clipped than she’d intended, but she was tired. She was in pain. She was fed up with all the people wanting her to give up.
“I am on your side, Sarah.”
Someone called Mark’s name before she could respond. She pulled free of his embrace. “Go, where you’re needed.”
The immediate hurt that registered on Mark’s face twisted her heart with regret. Yet the disappointment she felt in the knowledge that he agreed with her mom and Karla justified her remark. Maybe she was wrong that Mark cared for her.
“I’ll be right back.” Mark let go of her but kept his eye on her as he walked away, no doubt looking for those telltale MS signs.
“A few of us are going to get started.” Caroline stopped beside Sarah. “I’d ask you to join us, but I’m sure you’re waiting for Mark.” Caroline’s blue eyes twinkled as she teased Sarah.
Sarah glanced to where Mark stood, his back facing her. “Actually, I’d like to get started. I’ll join your group, and Mark can catch up.”
With concentrated effort, Sarah bent down and picked up her backpack. Straightening, she brought up the rear of the small group of people. The short rest in the chair eased some of her symptoms. Although her arm ached, she felt she’d regained some of the control in her right leg. Not quite her normal gait, but she was keeping up with the group.
The sun blazed in the morning sky. She prayed that the front that moved into the area, bringing unseasonable mid-May warmth and humidity to South Dakota, would pass by this day. Her prayer went unanswered.
Although the temperature was actually a comfortable seventy-five degrees, the dew point made it feel more like eighty-five. Her sweat-dampened hair stuck to the nape of her neck. She raised her left arm and swiped the side of her face with her T-shirt sleeve. The weather fought against any good her MS meds were doing for her today.
Pain shot up Sarah’s right leg with the next step she took. She grimaced but managed to stifle a groan.
“Sarah!” Mark’s voice rose above the noisy laughter and chatter of the walkers.
She didn’t want Mark to see her difficulty in walking. It took all her resolve to try to take a normal step. Whether anyone liked it or not, Sarah was like Job. She wanted to accept the bad with the good that God sent her way. Why couldn’t others see their negative attitudes weren’t conducive to her well-being?
“Sarah, wait.”
Glancing over her shoulder, Sarah saw Mark jogging toward her. Once again, with concentration, she moved to take a normal step.
Her leg didn’t cooperate. She started to wobble. The loaded backpack threw her balance off. She let it fall to the ground and tried to overcompensate, but with the lack of feeling in her leg she had no idea where to find her footing. She tried to throw her weight to the left, but the movement increased the speed of the fall. Her body pulled her backward. She closed her eyes and braced for the impact with the sidewalk.
“Oh.” Mark’s breath added additional heat to the back of her neck as her body knocked into his sturdy chest. He gently set her down on the sidewalk. “Are you all right?” He panted the words.
“Yes.” Sarah’s left leg was bent, and her right leg stuck straight out.
Members of the group she’d been walking with turned around when they heard the commotion. As a small crowd began to gather around her, humiliation stirred the embers of her anger into full-fledged flames. “Just help me up,” she snapped.
“Not until I make sure you are okay.”
Mark’s terse tone turned her anger into rage. She struggled to get up, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.
“You aren’t going anywhere until the on-site paramedics check you out.” Mark’s firm grip held her in place.
She turned her head and glared at him. “Help me up.”
His hazel eyes glared back at her. He clenched his teeth. “It’s the walk’s rules. I’ll help you up after they c
heck to make sure you aren’t hurt.” He tightened his hold on her arms. “If you’re hurt, they’ll take you to the hospital. If you’re not, I’m taking you home.”
Sarah started to retort when two paramedics broke through the small crowd of people. After they shooed the people on, they went through a series of limb-movement checks. All they found was a cement burn on her left leg from her having grazed the cement on her way down.
After the paramedics cleaned then applied antiseptic to the abrasion, they set her in a wheelchair and suggested she let Mark push her for the rest of the walk. Sarah’s humiliation deepened.
What a nightmare! She wanted out of this horrible chair. Why of all times had the weather heated up so early in the season and brought her such misery?
Mark sat in the grass beside the wheelchair and allowed the paramedics to clean the scrape that ran the length of his calf. Since the paramedics had first arrived, she’d avoided his gaze, but now she stole a glance his way. His face showed no emotion, and he laughed when the paramedic made a joke about the rescuer’s injuries being worse than the rescuee’s.
She should reach out, squeeze Mark’s hand, and thank him for his help. After all, it was the second time he’d saved her from severe injury. But if she did it would seem like she’d be admitting defeat, especially after his change of attitude toward her active lifestyle. Mark stood and shook hands with the paramedics then turned to Sarah. “Where’s your cell phone?”
His question confused her. Had he lost or broken his in the fall? “My backpack. Why?” She dug through the small area where she stowed her keys then held out her cell.
He shook his head. “Call someone—your mom, your friend, anyone, and tell them to meet us at your house.”
“What?” Sarah’s voice showed her surprise.
“We’re not having a repeat of last time. You need someone at your house until you can get your MS under control. They need to make sure that you rest.”
“I’m fine. It’s just the heat.” Sarah started to put the cell phone away.
Mark snatched it from her. “I’ll do it, then. Who do you want me to call—your mom or Karla? It’s not just the heat, Sarah. You have to scale back your activities. The long days at the office, followed by church committee meetings—they’re adding to your misery.”
“Give me my phone.” Sarah reached in Mark’s direction. He handed her the phone.
“And unfortunately, I’ve added to your stress, too, letting you help me in the store. I’m sorry for that. I knew better, and it won’t happen again.”
Bitter tears burned in Sarah’s eyes. How could he take away the one thing she really liked, helping at the fabric store? “But I was just rescuing you those days, like you just did me.”
Mark pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not the same, Sarah. Please make the call so I can get you home.”
“What if I don’t want to go home? What if I want to stay for the entire walk?” She jutted her chin out in defiance.
“Fine, but you’re spending it in the wheelchair.” Mark positioned his stocky frame in front of her as if to block her escape. Right now, making a break for it seemed like a great idea.
Her gasp sounded far away and faint, like the last echo bouncing back to its caller. The sad reality snuck in. It didn’t matter what her mind or spirit wanted—her body bound her to the wheelchair, holding her captive.
Her anger, instant and intense, caused her hands to tremble. She had no choice. Today she was dependent on Mark and whomever she decided to call. Why had this happened to her?
The urgent slap of sneakers on the cement drew Mark’s attention from Sarah and gave him a second to compose himself. Her wounded expression twisted his heart in pain. He hated being stern with Sarah, but she obviously didn’t comprehend the effects of MS on her body.
“Sarah, are you all right?” As she ran, the woman’s purse swayed from her elbow then slapped into Mark’s chest as she bumped into him when she squatted down in front of the wheelchair.
Sarah’s lip quivered, but she squared her chin again.
“Did someone knock you down?” The woman grasped Sarah’s hand.
Sarah’s slight head shake removed the panicked concern from the woman’s face. The woman’s eyes narrowed, and Sarah took a sudden interest in her backpack.
Mark cleared his throat. “She fell.”
The woman stood and raked her eyes over Mark. “Are you Mark?”
“Yes.” Mark stuck his hand out.
“Karla.” She clasped the hand he offered.
“I think Sarah was just about to call you.”
They both turned to Sarah. She sighed and looked from Mark to Karla.
“My MS is really bothering me today.” Her annoyance showed on the last word. “Mark feels that someone should stay with me for a while. Would you be able to spend a couple of hours at my house?”
“So you don’t want to stay for the walk?” Mark wanted to verify her intention, since a few minutes ago she wanted to finish the walk.
Sarah yawned. “No. I want Karla to take me home.” She flashed an indignant look at Mark.
“Um…” Karla looked at Mark and then Sarah. “I have to pick up my dog from the groomer in twenty minutes, but after that I’d be happy to take you home and stay with you.”
Like a half-burned candle melting in a votive cup, Sarah dissolved in the depth of the wheelchair. She needed to get out of the hot, humid weather.
Mark frowned. “I’ll take you home and wait until Karla can get there.”
“Okay.” Her meek voice revealed her reluctance to be dependent on others.
Mark hated seeing Sarah like this, probably just as much as she hated being in this situation. How could he make her see that some of her misery was self-inflicted?
Karla again kneeled in front of Sarah. “I’ll stop at my house and pack a bag. We’ll have a sleepover, just like old times. I’ll pick up some lunch and treats. Is there anything special you’d like?”
Sarah dug through her backpack. She pulled out a pill bottle. “Can you stop and pick up my refill?”
“Sure.” Karla took the bottle and put it in her own purse as she stood. “I’m leaving now. I’ll see you at your house.”
Mark watched Sarah pull a bottle of water from her backpack and struggle to remove the cap.
“I can do that for you.” Mark reached for the bottle but backed off at the look Sarah shot him. “Let’s get you home, then.”
For once it paid for Mark to get to the walk site early. His pickup wasn’t parked far from the starting point. He pushed the chair to the truck and angled it so he could open the passenger door.
In the second it took Mark to swing the door wide, Sarah had stood. “I don’t think so.” Mark admired Sarah’s independent spirit, but ever since she’d fallen down, he’d wanted to scoop her into a tight embrace. The two quick steps it took Mark to get to Sarah seemed endless. He lifted her as if he would carry her across a threshold.
To his surprise she wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his shoulder, and began to cry. Mark instinctively tightened his hold around her waist.
“Oh Sarah.” He managed to choke out the words around the lump in his throat before kissing the top of her head.
Sarah stiffened. Her hands pushed against his chest as she tried to sit erect in his arms. “Don’t. Pity. Me.” Each word held a drip of venom like the fangs of a coiled rattlesnake.
What just happened? Mark searched Sarah’s face. Though her eyes were red rimmed there was no mistaking the lick of angry flames flashing in her coal-colored eyes. “Sarah, I—”
“Put me in the truck.” Even through clenched teeth, Sarah’s words were loud and clear. She’d set her features as if she’d been etched in stone.
Mark obliged by lifting her onto the truck seat. He moved forward to assist in adjusting her to a more comfortable position.
“I’ve got it.”
Mark wanted to help her. To defend himself. To protec
t her.
Instead, he backed away and closed the pickup door. He pulled the wheelchair back to the sidewalk, stopping by the driver’s side. The weather was too hot for Sarah to wait in the vehicle while he returned the wheelchair to the paramedics.
He flicked the door handle and inserted his key in the ignition. A quick turn and the truck engine roared its start. He pressed the air-conditioning button and turned the fan to high. Sarah might not take care of herself to reduce her MS symptoms, but he could. He sneaked a glance Sarah’s way. She wiggled herself back into the seat and snapped the safety belt.
“I’ll be right back.”
A snort of air was Sarah’s indignant reply.
Mark shut the truck door, grabbed the wheelchair handles, and then hurried along the sidewalk, dodging other walkers, reporters, and onlookers. He’d envisioned this day much differently. A hand-holding, romantic stroll from start to finish, ending with a heart-to-heart talk over dinner, hoping he read her signals correctly and that she, too, wanted to take their relationship to a more serious level.
Obviously, he’d misread those signals. Why was he surprised? Didn’t he recently find out that he’d broken many hearts along the dating path? Was the pain ripping into his heart right now payback for all the suffering he’d caused other women?
Mark handed off the wheelchair and thanked the paramedics for their help before turning back toward the parking lot.
Caroline’s opinion about him being more like Walter than his father had hushed the warning voices inside Mark, causing him to let his guard down. Sarah’s immediate rejection to his words of comfort separated the false happiness he held in his heart from the stark reality. He was a Sanders man. They didn’t win in love.
The click of the pickup door roused Sarah from her quick nap. She lifted her sleep-laden lids, saw it was Mark, and then turned her head toward the side window and closed her eyes.
The low volume of the radio and Sarah’s even breathing supplied white noise for Mark’s thoughts as he drove across town to Sarah’s house.
Her self-inflicted exhaustion and misdirected use of her meds had obviously caught up to her. Perhaps that drove her attitude today, mistaking his comfort for pity. His mom’s MS fatigue made her cranky but not vehement. Something drove Sarah to overdo. But what? And more importantly, why?
Dakota Love Page 28