Sara's Promise

by Deanna Lynn Sletten

  Walking into the dark living room, Annie stopped at the sliding glass door and stared out into the night. With only a half-moon working hard to shine through the cloudy sky, the night looked dark and eerie, like something from a scary movie. And the wind howled and blew, at times, rattling the heavy swing out on the deck.

  Annie grabbed the blanket off of the back of the sofa and wrapped it around her, trying to ward off the chills that were creeping up her legs, back, and arms. The dream had awoken her, as it had been doing for the past few months. It was changing. Almost every time she had it, small changes appeared. At first, it was the appearance of the woman, but tonight the dream had been much more disturbing.

  Annie felt a presence in the room with her and slowly turned around in the dark to see who was there. No one stood in the room, yet she could sense someone just the same. "Sara?" Annie whispered into the silent room. "Sara, are you still here?"

  The wind rattled the porch swing, and it hit against the glass, causing Annie to jump. Quickly, she walked back into the lighted kitchen and headed for the stove, hugging the blanket tightly around her. She pulled a small saucepan out from the cupboard under the island and poured milk into it to heat, then reached for the cocoa and sugar. The familiar movements of preparing hot cocoa calmed her, and by the time the sweet liquid was ready to pour into a mug, the chills that had plagued Annie had disappeared.

  She slid onto the island's chair and opened her laptop, turning it on. As she waited for it to boot up, she finally gave in to thoughts of the dream. Tonight, the dream had started as it always did, with her floating up toward the beautiful colors only to be denied access to actually touch them. The lovely lady with the golden hair came down to pull her near, as she had over the past couple of months. Just as before, the woman whispered into her ear, "It's you. You're the one." But this time, the dream hadn't ended there, and that was what had upset Annie.

  Sipping her hot cocoa, Annie sat, remembering how the dream continued so clearly, it felt as if she'd actually been there. The woman had pointed down and Annie's eyes followed through the mist below, surprised to see a room with several people in scrubs circling a table. The blue-clad people were working furiously on the person lying there. Faintly, Annie could hear the steady whine of a heart monitor, the high-pitched sound which is always used in television dramas when a patient dies.

  Disturbed by the scene below her, Annie looked up into the fairy-like woman's blue-green eyes. "Who is it?" she asked. "Who are they trying to save?"

  "You."

  "You," Annie said aloud, the goosebumps again prickling her arms.

  Her thoughts returned to the conversation she and Cherise had at the coffeehouse. "It's not like you both died during surgery, and you came back as her, right?" Cherise had said teasingly. But, what if?

  Annie searched the internet for the doctor she'd gone to while living in Minnesota and the hospital where she'd had her surgery. She went into William's office and hooked her laptop to his printer, then printed out forms from both places so she could request copies of her medical records. She was positive she hadn't died during surgery. Wouldn't the surgeon have told her if she had? Wouldn't they have told Joey who had been waiting during her surgery? First thing in the morning, she'd fax out the forms, and once she received the medical records, she would be able to sleep better at night, confirming she hadn't really died as her dream implied.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Annie became immersed in William's life so easily that she didn't even realize it, until one day, when she found herself standing in line at the dry cleaners, picking up his suits. Yet, even then, she didn't mind. Slowly, she'd begun running small errands for him, picking up an extra gallon of milk, mailing letters at the post office, or even stopping at the sporting goods shop to buy a box of golf balls for Sam. She spent most nights now at his home, and a great portion of her wardrobe now hung in his closet, where Sara's had once been. She usually worked on her laptop in the kitchen during the day or at night, and more often than not, they ate dinner at home with the kids occasionally joining them. Annie enjoyed their company, even if Sandy was sometimes a bit abrasive. It made her feel like she was a part of a real family, something that she never remembered feeling before, even as a child.

  However, occasionally, Annie would stay a night or two in her condo, needing to be alone and spend time with the old life that she sometimes missed. She'd been alone for so long, it was sometimes difficult always sharing her time with William. Not that she wanted to be alone completely, she just enjoyed the occasional night to herself. Sometimes, on the nights she'd stay home, Cherise came over and they'd share a pizza or Chinese takeout, and chat about all the things going on in their lives, just like they used to. William had trouble understanding Annie's need to occasionally escape. "Why don’t you invite Cherise over here instead?" he'd ask. Annie tried to explain that it wouldn't be the same, but he just didn't understand.

  One Friday evening, Annie was home alone at her kitchen table, sorting through photos she'd taken earlier in the week of coastal homes down in Rockaway Beach. Cherise hadn't come over that evening, because she was out to dinner with a man she'd met at the coffeehouse. When Annie's phone vibrated at midnight, she smiled, thinking it was William calling to say goodnight. She was surprised to see Sandy's name pop up on the screen instead. Fear crept up inside Annie. Sandy had never called her before, so it had to be important.

  "Sandy?" Annie asked anxiously into the phone when she answered. When all she heard was breathing on the other end, panic set in. "Sandy, are you there? Is something wrong?"

  "Annie?" Sandy's voice sounded small, scared. "Annie, I need your help."

  Sandy's tone frightened Annie. She went into full control mode. "Whatever you need. Tell me what I can do."

  "Can you come get me?" Sandy asked, her voice trembling. Annie could tell she was trying hard to hold back tears.

  "I can come right now. Where are you?" Annie was already slipping on her shoes and searching for her car keys.

  "I'm not really sure," Sandy said, sounding helpless. "I think I'm somewhere in Cannon Beach, at least that's where I was before the guy I was with drove me here. I'm on the end of a road somewhere, near the beach."

  Annie stopped, stunned. Why was Sandy just wandering around in the dark? "Can you see any street signs?" she asked. "Are you near any businesses?"

  Sandy finally broke down in sobs. "It's really dark. I don't know where I am. There are some houses here, but I can't see anything. Please come find me, Annie. I don't know what to do."

  "Okay, okay. It's okay, Sandy, just calm down. I'm coming as fast as I can. Just let me think." Annie stood in her living room, feeling helpless. Should she call William and have him go with her to search? Should she call 911? Through the phone she heard Sandy crying, and it tore at her heart. Finally, she had an idea.

  "Sandy, listen to me. Do you have GPS on your phone?"

  "Yes," Sandy said through her tears.

  "Okay. Mark your coordinates and send them to me. Can you do that?"

  It took Sandy a minute to answer. A minute of torture for Annie.

  "I can do that," Sandy finally said.

  "Good. I'll head down 101 toward Cannon Beach right now, and when I get your position, I can zero in on you. Just sit tight. I'm coming."

  Annie ran down to her car and was soon on Highway 101, going south to Cannon Beach. Her phone pinged. She turned on her GPS and loaded the coordinates. Never in her life had Annie felt so scared. Why on earth was Sandy left all alone on a beach road in Cannon Beach? What had she been doing?

  The night was dark and fog had rolled in, impeding Annie's progress. She followed the directions on the GPS until she found herself driving down a quiet neighborhood street, then turning into a cul-de-sac, where the road ended, except for a walking path between houses down to the beach.

  Annie sat a moment in the car, lights blazing, looking around. No Sandy. Where the hell was she?

  A face suddenly ap
peared next to the passenger window of the car. "Annie?"

  Annie jumped. When she recognized Sandy, she hopped out of the car and ran around to the passenger side, stopping short. She wanted to pull Sandy into a hug, she was that relieved to have found her. Sandy stood there, tears in her eyes, her mascara smeared down her face. Her hair was tangled, her T-shirt, was ripped and her jeans were dirty. She was standing there, barefoot, holding her high-heeled sandals in her hand.

  "Sandy," Annie said with a relieved sigh, then reached out and folded her into a hug. Sandy broke down into sobs as she dropped her head onto Annie's shoulder.

  "Shhh, shhh, it's okay," Annie said. "I'm here." Annie pulled away and opened the car door, helping Sandy in. "Let's get you home."

  Panic rose in Sandy's eyes. "No! No, I can't go home. Not like this. Please don't take me home."

  "Okay, okay. Don't worry. I'll take you to my place, okay? I was staying there tonight anyway." Annie shut the door after Sandy had nodded agreement and hurried back to the driver's side. She turned the car around and headed home.

  They rode in silence, except for the sound of Sandy crying softly. Annie passed the tissue box she kept in her car over to Sandy, and she accepted it gratefully. When they arrived at Annie's condo, Annie walked around to Sandy's side and opened her door, then linked arms with her and led her up the staircase to her place.

  Once inside, Annie led her to the sofa to sit down. In the light, Annie saw just how bad Sandy looked. Her knee through her jeans was scraped and bleeding, as was her right palm, and there was a dark bruise beginning to form on her cheek. Annie tried not to panic.

  "What happened? We should take you to the hospital."

  Sandy shook her head furiously. "No hospital. I just need to clean up. That's all."

  Annie went to the bathroom and wet a washcloth with warm water. She took a bottle of rubbing alcohol out of the medicine cabinet as well as a few cotton balls, then headed back to the living room. Kneeling down in front of Sandy, Annie gently began cleaning the bloody scrapes on her hand and knee. Sandy just sat there, no longer crying, only staring straight ahead. She flinched a little when Annie applied the rubbing alcohol to her scrapes, but that was all the movement she made.

  After Annie cleaned up Sandy's cuts, she went to the kitchen and filled a plastic bag with ice, then wrapped it in a clean dishtowel. She brought it out to Sandy and handed it to her, taking her hand and moving it up to the bruise on her face. Sandy obediently held it there without saying a word.

  Finally, Annie couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Tell me what happened. Did a man do this to you? Were you…raped?" Annie faintly whispered the word that all women feared.

  Sandy slowly shook her head, and Annie let out a sigh of relief. They sat quietly for some time, so long that Annie thought Sandy had fallen asleep. Then, Sandy finally broke the silence.

  "It was my own fault," she said in a small voice. "I didn't know him, and I got into the truck with him anyway. It was my own fault." Two tears fell down her cheeks, and Annie's heart broke as she watched.

  "Being hurt by someone is never your fault," Annie said. "You may have made a bad decision, but that doesn't give anyone the right to hurt you."

  "I just wanted to go home," Sandy said, more tears spilling. Annie ran to grab a box of tissues and gave it to Sandy, before sitting down closer to her. Sandy took a tissue and wiped her eyes but more tears followed. "I was at the house of someone I knew fairly well, and we had all been partying and drinking. It was just like any other Friday night. But then the party grew larger, and I didn't know who the people were, so I asked my friend to drive me home. She didn't want to leave, and this guy heard me. He was driving back to Seaside, and I could ride along." Sandy stopped and took a breath, wiping at the tears again that continued spilling down her cheeks. "I didn't know him, but my friend said she knew him, and I'd be okay, so I believed her."

  Sandy stopped there, thinking about what happened next. Instead of driving her home, he had pulled down that dark neighborhood road and started grabbing at her. When she resisted, he grew angry. "Hey, what's wrong with you," he'd yelled. "You do it with every other guy." This had only made her angrier, and as she tried to fight him off, he hit her in the face. Desperately wanting to get out, she had grabbed for the door handle, and the door swung open. He'd pushed her out the door, and she fell onto the pavement, scrapping her hand and her knee. "Stupid bitch!" he'd yelled as he slammed the door shut and spun out, leaving her all alone on the dark street.

  Annie interrupted her thoughts. "Is he the one who hit you?"

  Sandy nodded.

  "We should call the police. It's obvious this guy tried to rape you. They should know about this."

  "No." Sandy said vehemently. "No. I got away. That's all that matters. My dad can never know this happened." The tears spilled again down her cheeks. "He can't know that I'm like this. Please, Annie. Don't let my dad find out. He's been hurt enough."

  "Oh, Sandy." Annie reached out and hugged her and was surprised when the girl let her. "Your dad loves you no matter what. You should know that by now."

  Sandy began sobbing again, and Annie held her, trying to soothe her as best she knew how.

  "Why, Sandy? Why do you do this? Why do you treat yourself this way? You're such a pretty girl. You're smart and talented, and you have a family who loves you. It would break your mother's heart to see you so hurt."

  Sandy pulled away and stared hard at Annie through her tears. She stared into the blue-green eyes that were so much like her own mother's had been. "What do you know about it?" she spat out. "Just because you're sleeping with my dad doesn't mean you know anything about me or my mother. My mother is probably happy to see me suffer. I deserve it."

  "How can you say that? Your mother loved you very much."

  Sandy shook her head. "How could she love me?" She looked up at Annie with sad, grief-stricken eyes. "Do you know what I said to my mom just hours before she died? Do you know the very last thing I said? I told her I hated her. I hated her! Just because she wouldn't let me have my way. That was the last thing my mother ever heard me say to her. How am I supposed to live, knowing the last thing my mom heard from me was I hate you?"

  Annie sat back in silence, her own eyes threatening to fill with tears. This poor girl, living with this guilt for so many years. She sat quietly, searching for the right words, then she gently placed her hand on Sandy's shoulder. "I'm sure your mother knew you didn't mean it. You were a teenager. Teenagers say things all the time that they don't mean. Believe me. She knew you didn't really hate her."

  Sandy continued crying while Annie sat with her. When she had no more tears to shed, Annie led her to the guest room, gave her a nightshirt to change into, and tucked her into the bed, pulling the quilt up around her. Taking her dirty clothes, Annie turned to leave, but Sandy reached out and grabbed her arm.

  "I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Sandy said.

  Annie smiled. "You're no trouble at all. I'm just happy you're safe, and you're here." Before Annie made it out the door, Sandy was already asleep, exhausted from her ordeal and her tears.

  Annie went down the hallway to the bathroom off her bedroom, where a small washer and dryer were stacked in the closet. She placed Sandy's clothes in the washer and started a cycle. Sandy would need clean clothes to go home in tomorrow, and Annie would make sure to mend the shirt and jeans too. As she watched the clothes spin in the front-loading washing machine, Annie said aloud, "Sara, you certainly left a mess behind. Who's going to clean it up?" As much as Annie enjoyed being with William, she didn't know if she was the right person to step into Sara's shoes.

  William lay in bed unable to fall asleep. It was past one o'clock in the morning, and he was worried about Sandy. She usually came home on Friday nights, but he hadn't heard from her. He knew she'd been in the Beaverton office today, because he'd spoken to his business partner, Jeffrey, and he'd mentioned her being there. Usually, she called him after work to tell him she was
going out with friends and whether she'd be home or stay over with a friend, but tonight she hadn't. And even though Sandy didn't normally come home until after two most mornings, and even though she was nearly twenty-one and an adult, he still worried.

  I wish Annie were here. That sudden thought surprised him. In the short time he'd known her, he'd become dependent upon her for so many aspects of his life. She'd slid into his life so effortlessly, as if she'd always been a part of it, like she belonged there. And when she wasn't with him, as she wasn't tonight, he missed her. He missed hearing the tapping of her laptop keyboard as she worked in the kitchen, her soft laughter over a silly joke or story, and most of all, holding her close through the night.

  William pushed back the covers and stepped out of bed, walking to the window. The moon wasn't giving off much light tonight, but his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. He saw the fog drifting in around the beach below and the mist touching the windows, leaving a layer of moistness that dripped down the outside of the window like tears. He wondered why Annie chose to stay away some nights. Did he take her for granted at times, making her feel used? Did she need to remind herself of how it felt to be unencumbered by staying alone? Was he using her to replace Sara?

  "No," William said aloud, trying to convince himself the last thought wasn't true. Annie wasn't Sara. He knew that. He cared about her because of who she was, not for the things that reminded him of Sara. At least, that was what he tried to convince himself to believe.

  Turning away from the tearstained window, William's eyes were drawn to the shadow of the easel and painting in the corner of the room. He walked over to it and stared at it long and hard. Maybe Annie wasn't comfortable in a house that still showcased Sara in every room. Maybe, after five years, it was time to put some reminders of Sara away in order to move forward.