Something About You (Just Me & You)

by Lelaina Landis

  Don’t change a hair for me, not if you care for me, stay, little Valentine, stay …

  The clean, uncomplicated smell of Gage’s skin and the steady warmth it radiated reminded Sabrina of the long, leisurely days of countless childhood summers. When she closed her eyes, she saw Grandma Ella standing on the front porch of the bakery, shaking excess flour from her apron. The old woman smiled as she hummed a song. This song. The sentimental feelings the memory inspired were both sweet and painful.

  Sabrina could feel Gage’s breath stirring the hair at her temples.

  “Going to this ball had to be last on your list of things to do on a Friday night,” she told him. “I shouldn’t have bullied you into it.”

  “Hey, I’m all good. The real question is are you having fun yet?”

  “My life isn’t really fun, Gage. It’s damned hard being a woman in a man’s profession. There doesn’t seem to be time for anything else.”

  “You think I haven’t noticed that?” He loosened his grasp slightly so he could get a read of her face. “You’re right. I don’t know much about the policy-peddling that goes on in your world. But I do know a few things about life. I know that it might not be as long as I think.”

  “C’est la vie,” Sabrina said with a shrug. “What can you do?”

  “You find a cause you really believe in and put everything you have behind it,” he said. “You love it, live it and never say die. Because sometimes you only get one chance to fight the good fight.”

  Sabrina was surprised by the quiet intensity she heard in his voice. So much in fact that she didn’t realize they’d come to a standstill in the middle of the ballroom. The only things that registered were of small consequence. Like how his eyes were the same color as Spanish moss. And how unconscionable it was that his promenade was more practiced than her own. Lastly, she considered the tableau from camera distance and how they must look to Theo, Jackson, Eva and other gala attendees.

  Like two people falling in love.

  Everything suddenly went into slow motion. Through a long fringe of bangs, Sabrina could see that the look in his eyes had turned serious. She felt the brush of his fingertips on her brow as he curled a long strand of hair around her ear, a gesture that was both tender and electric. Instinctively, she pressed her cheek against his palm and inhaled the warm, clean smell of his skin. He opened his mouth to say something but ended up shaking his head instead.

  Kiss me. Kiss me, now, Sabrina thought fervently.

  She was almost too distracted to notice that a hotel employee had wound his way through the dancers and was now tapping Gage on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, sir? Are you Mr. Fitzgerald?” the man asked. “I’m the night manager. There’s a phone call for you downstairs at the front desk. It appears to be urgent.”

  “Could be my station manager,” Gage told her. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”

  Saved by the bell, Sabrina thought, as she watched him follow the manager out the door. She retreated to Jillian’s lilies, snagging the last champagne cocktail from a passing tray en route.

  “Your friend Gage is a real character.” Theo drawled as he sidled up beside her. “Yep. I’d bet good money that he’s an Independent.”

  “Actually, we’ve never discussed his party preference,” Sabrina told him.

  “He’s that guy with the radio show, ‘Fitz and Giggles’.” Theo sounded cordial enough, but a note of disdain had crept into his voice. “The guy who seems to have intimate knowledge of your, ah, collar and cuffs, if I remember correctly.”

  Sabrina felt like crawling under any one of the finely decorated cocktail tables.

  Theo plunged his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Yep, that Gage sure is a character, all right. Even Jill seems to think he’s some kind of rock star. So are the two of you—?” He shot Sabrina a worried look, then added hastily, “Not that what you do behind closed doors is any of my business, god forbid.”

  “Gage happens to be a friend with an unorthodox sense of humor,” Sabrina said adamantly, not sure whether she was trying to convince Theo or herself. “Actually, he’s the friend of a friend. There’s nothing between us.”

  “Seems to me there was more than just a little sizzle going on between you during that last dance, Chief. If the two of you had been in the vicinity of the hundred-proofs, the entire place could have gone up in flames.”

  “Please, Theo,” Sabrina snorted. “I just ended a marriage. An ill-conceived, unhealthy marriage, but it was still a marriage. So unlike the old standard, I’m not in the mood for love.”

  “Hey, I didn’t hear anyone mention the word ‘love.’ Did you?” Theo looked around him. “Just remember, Chief, that politics is just like any other business.” His voice had taken on a doting, paternal tone that she found irritating. “My success is your success. My failures are your failures, and vice versa. We both have a public image to uphold.”

  Sabrina bristled in silence for a while before she finally excused herself to the bar. She knew exactly what the Hon. Rep. was trying to tell her without actually telling her. That showing up at one of Austin’s most anticipated social events with Gage “Fitz” Fitzgerald was a classic fumble on her part. That she could have unacceptable paramours as long as hers, like his, were strictly bedroom.

  He owed her that much allegiance after all of those bottles of Febreze.

  She was sipping her drink and mulling over the various ways in which she could have told Theo to mind his own business when a strong hand clasped her upper arm firmly. It was Gage.

  “Sabrina.” His face looked grim. “Do you have a coat? Purse?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Get them. That was Sebastian calling,” he said. “It’s Molly.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Molly slept peacefully on an uncomfortable-looking hospital bed.

  Sabrina kept vigil from a chair nearby. It was odd how her friend looked so healthy. When her multiple sclerosis came out of remission, her skin turned sallow and her eyes were circled with fatigue. Molly wasn’t sick. Molly shouldn’t even be here.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Sabrina still couldn’t believe she was sitting in this austere hospital room, where notes of gauze and Betadine scrub lingered in the air. The past couple of hours had been hazy. She remembered the worried look on Gage’s face when he dropped her off at the emergency entrance. Yet another impression was of the Coles huddled together on a couch in the waiting area. Shuck still wore his house slippers. Cybil looked a wreck, makeup-less, her hair uncombed.

  Can’t pick up the slack … can’t pick up the slack … when the bottom falls out …

  Her parting words to Molly replayed themselves in a hideous loop. The bottom had fallen out. But not in the way Sabrina had expected. She felt the same sense of sick disappointment she had when Nola told her that her father had moved out of the house for good.

  Molly’s eyelids fluttered open. Her gaze was unsteady for a while, and then she finally focused on Sabrina’s face. Her mouth stretched into what could have been either a grimace or a smile. Sabrina reached for her hand. Molly’s fingers were so cold.

  “How do you feel?” Sabrina asked.

  “Not so wonderful.” Molly’s voice was raspy. “Here we go again, huh?”

  “Sebastian told me the doctor wants to keep you overnight.”

  “Yeah, I had a freak-out. And not a minor one, either. Plenty of women miscarry early in pregnancy, but I apparently am not equipped with the right coping skills. The psychiatrist on call told me there are good drugs for that.” Molly’s lips trembled as the tears that had collected in her lower lashes hit her cheek and rolled down her face.

  “That psychiatrist doesn’t know you from Adam,” Sabrina said a little angrily. She plucked a tissue from a nearby box and blotted Molly’s tears away. “I do. All you need is to talk it out, Molls. We don’t have to talk now, if you don’t feel like it.”

  “I do. I got my hopes up to
o soon,” Molly confessed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I deserved it,” Sabrina gulped. She couldn’t stand knowing that while she was at the ball, Molly was in an emergency room watching her dream for a family bleed away. “I said hateful things to you that day at Ella’s. I was insensitive. I can’t begin to tell you how much I regret every word.”

  “You were honest. If you hadn’t been, you wouldn’t be you, Brini.” Molly pulled at the sheets. “I’m so cold.”

  Sabrina knew just what to do. She retrieved a spare blanket from the small hospital closet, doubled it and spread it over the thin hospital bedding. Molly croaked out a thanks.

  “You know something?” Sabrina asked as she pulled the chair closer, “I could say something disingenuous like, ‘Oh, Molly, maybe this is all for the best.’ Or ‘There’s a good reason for everything.’ But everything I could tell you would be meaningless. I don’t know what to say to you this time, Molls. That’s the truth.”

  “You just haven’t found your magic words yet.”

  “Magic words?” Sabrina was nonplussed. Molly was still a little high from the sedatives. “You mean platitudes.”

  “They aren’t platitudes, Brini. They’re words that make me feel like I can make it through the hard times. You always seem to know what they are.”

  “I don’t believe in magic words. There’s only what people want to hear and what they don’t. Anything else is likely to be a lie.”

  “God, you’d make a terrible politician.” Molly’s mouth stretched into a weak smile.

  “How’s Sebastian?” Sabrina asked.

  “Stiff upper lip. What can I say? He’s still a Cole. I go home tomorrow morning. What do I do for the rest of my life, Brini?” Molly looked truly baffled.

  “Well, let’s tackle this tomorrow bit first,” Sabrina said pragmatically. “You’ll cry as much as you want. I’ll take care of you while Sebastian grades papers in the evening. I’ll cook you bad food and complain about Theo until you wish I’d go home. When you feel up to it, you’ll make beautiful quilts. Plant bulbs for spring. You and Sebastian will love each other more than ever. You will heal, Molly Parker-Cole. I know that much.”

  Molly closed her eyes and seemed to relax. “There they are. Magic words.”

  “I wasn’t really trying, you know.”

  “There’s something I’ve always wondered,” Molly murmured. “We’ve been best friends for more than thirty years. I like to think we’ve rubbed off on each other. So why didn’t I turn out strong like you?”

  Her friend’s speech was slurred, Sabrina noticed. She gave Molly’s hand a comforting squeeze. The words “Do you really want to be?” were on the tip of her tongue. While she was thinking about her response, Molly drifted back to sleep.

  Sabrina heard a soft cough. Sebastian stood in the doorway favoring his good leg and looking like he’d been through hell. His eyes caught Sabrina’s briefly before they moved to Molly’s face.

  It wasn’t an in love look; having been the recipient of many, Sabrina was keenly aware of the moony gazes men aimed her way during the beginning of each courtship. This was something else entirely. Even though Sabrina had never seen that look directed at her before, she knew what it meant. She’d seen it transpire between Ella and Ike Fontaine too many times to count. Heard the quiet affection in their voices whenever they’d spoken to each other.

  It was the look of forever love.

  Sabrina stood up. “Next shift is yours, Sebastian.”

  “My parents are still downstairs.” He ran a hand though his hair distractedly. “I told them there’s no need to stay but—” He gave her a beseeching look. “—you know my mother and father. The last thing Molly needs right now is them hovering. We’ll need time together alone when she comes home. Would you talk to them, Sabrina? Make them understand?”

  “Of course I will,” she told him.

  A clock above the nurses’ station told Sabrina that it was only eleven o’clock, but it felt much later than that. The only thing she craved was a chilled Topo Chico and sleep in short order, but Shuck Cole was grilling a nurse for information, and Cybil stood nearby looking like she was still in a state of shock. Sabrina pulled them aside.

  “I can’t seem to get any answers from these people,” Shuck groused to her. “Damned privacy laws.”

  “How is Moll—” Cybil pursed her lips, drew a breath and started over again. “How is my daughter-in-law?”

  “Molly’s just fine,” Sabrina assured her. “The best thing the two of you can do right now is go home. That’s what she and Sebastian want.”

  “This is a family matter,” Shuck complained. “Are you pulling this out of your ass, Sabrina?”

  “No, I’m not.” Sabrina kept her tone firm. “Molly and Sebastian want to cope with this privately. Give them a week. Give them until whenever. They’ll reach out when they’re ready.”

  Shuck Cole gave Sabrina the stink-eye and was about to say something else when Cybil took her husband by the arm.

  “Pack it in, Shuck,” she told him. “Sabrina’s right — for once.” The look Cybil gave her lacked its usual steely edge.

  Sabrina waited until the Coles were safely in the elevator before she took the next one down. The combination of rich food and champagne began to roil in her stomach as the car jolted into motion. She tried to keep her emotions in check and focused on the meager ray of light that penetrated the storm. This is all for the best. Molly is safe.

  Sabrina didn’t anticipate the jolt of energy that walloped her in the diaphragm like an underhanded body shot and made her clasp her arms around her waist. She drew herself upright and headed toward the waiting room. Molly will be fine, she told herself again.

  But nothing about the situation was fine.

  And Sabrina couldn’t do a thing to make it right.

  **

  Gage flipped through a year-old issue of Sports Illustrated and tried to tune out the all-too-familiar smells and sounds. The soft whoosh of the nurses’ uniforms as they passed by the room. The sound of diagnostic machines being wheeled around corridors. The odor of whatever bland chicken entree that went out on those plastic trays.

  He hated hospitals.

  Everyone he’d known and loved who’d checked into one hadn’t exactly come out standing. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Hospitals had never represented healing, to his mind; they meant the end of the line.

  Sabrina wandered into the room and went over to a service cart that held a coffee maker, Styrofoam cups, and mugs of sweetener, powdered creamer, and plastic stirrers. She picked up the carafe and stared into it bleakly before putting it back on the burner with a sigh. Gage set his magazine aside. He’d seen her look peaked before, but now she looked frankly exhausted. He gave her a questioning look. “Is Molly—”

  “She looks about as healthy as a horse. But how is she really? I don’t have a clue.” Sabrina’s affect was flat and her face was devoid of expression, but he saw turbulence brewing in her eyes. “What about Sebastian?”

  “He’ll soldier through. He’s seen bad times, too. Far worse. They both have,” Gage reminded her.

  Sabrina paused as she processed what he just said. Then a little crinkle appeared between her nose as her big eyes brimmed with unmasked sorrow.

  “I suppose I should feel relieved, but I don’t,” she said. He heard the little hitches in her voice when she finally spoke. “Molly wanted a baby more than anything. Almost anyone can have a baby. Even women who don’t really want one. Women who don’t deserve one. Just about anyone but Molly. She’s had such an uphill struggle, Gage.” Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Sabrina wiped them away in irritation. “Damn it, these heels are killing my feet.”

  She collapsed onto the rough waiting room carpet, her legs pretzeling beneath her, and began to pull off the offending shoes. Gage got up, sat down beside her and curled an arm around her shoulders.

  He’d been on the receiving end of many a woman’s tears. H
e’d seen argument tears, near-breakup tears, just-lost-my-job tears, and that-time-of-the-month tears. But Sabrina’s tears were different. They were earnest and heartfelt.

  She wasn’t crying for herself.

  “Ah, Sabrina,” he said, gathering her closer to his chest. “The bigger hills are all a part of the ride. None of them are insurmountable.”

  “I know, but try telling Molly that,” she murmured against his lapel. “She’d be a great mom. She’d be the best. And … I was sorta looking forward to being Aunt Brini, too.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he sighed. “I was looking forward to being Uncle Gage.”

  He righted her, reached into his pocket, and produced a white handkerchief. He dabbed away the mascara tracks that coursed down her cheeks, then folded the handkerchief and pressed it against her nose.

  “Gage, seriously—” she began to protest.

  “Don’t ‘seriously’ me now, honey. Give me a good blow,” he coaxed. She did.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He rose to his feet and extended his hand to help her up. “We’ve done our work here,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

  They drove back to Cadence Corners in silence. Out of the corner of his eye, Gage could see Sabrina alternately studying her French manicure and looking out the passenger side window bleakly. This was a hellish way to end what had started out as a pleasant evening. Disaster had a funny way of drawing out a person’s finer qualities. That was one thing Gage knew about both himself and those with whom he kept close company. Tonight, he’d seen his friend, the kid genius, be a real man. A husband. Gage had found out something else as well.

  Sabrina March was anything but cold and hard.

  She was more than that. Far more.

  She was cool, yes, but only in a crisis. In the waiting room when she had finally burst into tears, she had shown him just how warm and compassionate she was to the people she really loved. He could have sworn there was a moment on the dance floor when the same something he saw in her eyes when he first kissed her resurfaced. She’d looked up at him with those wary eyes, her lips slightly parted as though she were searching for a word that was right on the tip of her tongue.