Sarah wrapped her hands around the mug. “I think I’ll just hold mine.” But her stomach growled again, and hunger won out. She ate the melting cream, then spooned some of the hot liquid into her mouth. Her eyes closed in bliss. “Mmm. This is great.”
“Tell me you’ve had hot cocoa before,” Jay said.
“I have. Not often, though. Christmas mostly.” She wrapped her hands around her mug again. “I know you don’t mean to,” she began, choosing her words with care, “but you make me feel bad when you act shocked I haven’t heard of or seen or experienced a lot of things before.”
Jay set down his cup. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t my intention.”
“I know.” Feeling bad she’d even brought it up when he’d been so very kind to her, she reached out tentatively, her fingertips barely brushing his arm. “Believe me, I wish I’d experienced everything that the other ninety-nine percent of the American population has. Half the time I feel like I’m from another planet, but I can’t change the past.”
“It’s the future I’m concerned with.” Jay pulled her hand closer and placed his on top. “It’s a privilege to be the one to take you out to seafood for the first time, to have been at your side when you saw your first whale.”
“First boat ride, too,” Sarah reminded him.
“I want to take you to the movies, bowling, dancing, to the zoo. There are a thousand things I can’t wait for you to try. And experiencing them with you is like living them myself for the first time. I feel like a kid at Christmas.”
“Halloween was only a few days ago,” Sarah joked.
“Yes. And because I had to work, you didn’t go trick-or-treating. Next year we’ll borrow Jeffrey and James if we have to, but you’re going. Everyone has to have that experience at least once.”
“Do I have to throw up afterward like Jeffrey did?”
“Only if you choose to stuff your face with four pounds of candy in less than half an hour. And speaking of stuffing our faces . . .” Jay looked down through the rail where they could see their waitress carrying a tray up the stairs. He looked back at Sarah. “I promise not to be upset if you’re sick later. This is one time it’s worth getting stuffed.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sarah groaned as they walked back down the dock to the street. “I just might throw up.”
She’d never felt so full in her life. She’d also never eaten such good food.
They’d shared a platter that included boiled lobster and clams steamed with seaweed. Seaweed . . . who’d have thought? Fresh corn on the cob and baked potatoes had rounded out the meal. And, of course, she couldn’t forget the half pound of melted butter she’d likely gone through, dipping the lobster and clams.
“Shall I roll you down the street?” Jay asked.
“It would probably work.” Sarah held her hands over her stomach.
“Actually, I’ve got a better idea. We could rent bikes for the rest of the afternoon.” He glanced at his watch. “But first I thought we could go see Paul Revere’s house while we’re in this part of town—though I feel a little bad each time I go there.”
Sarah gave him a puzzled look. “Why?”
“He wasn’t really the one who sounded the cry, ‘The redcoats are coming.’ It was actually a Dr. Samuel Prescott. Paul Revere and the other man he was with, William Dawes, were arrested before they could warn the rebels.”
“Are all law students this knowledgeable? Or were you a history major or something?”
“I got my undergrad in history,” Jay said. “That’s a large part of the reason I came to Harvard—being the oldest university in America and all. Am I boring you?”
“No. And now I won’t be quite so intimidated by your vast knowledge.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wrote a paper comparing early nineteenth-century composers. Talk about intimidating and over my head.”
Sarah turned to him. “So I was boring you that day.”
Jay stopped at the curb. “No. I was fascinated—really,” he added when she continued to look doubtful. “I could tell you had a musical gift the first time I heard you play. And when you spoke so passionately about the pieces you were studying . . .” Jay paused, then reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “I imagined what it would be like if you were to feel so passionately about something else—or someone else.”
Sarah brought her hand to the spot on her face Jay’s fingers had touched. Her skin tingled, and the sensation was quickly spreading throughout the rest of her body. “I don’t know if that’s possible.”
“I believe it is,” Jay assured her. “And how lucky I’ll be if I’m the one you discover it with.”
Mesmerized by his words, Sarah stood rooted to the spot, staring at him. She didn’t care if they saw Paul Revere’s house or rode the subway again or did anything else this afternoon. The warmth flowing through her at this moment made the entire day better than anything she’d ever imagined. Again she found herself in awe that someone like Jay would value her company, her friendship. Maybe even my affection?
It was possible she’d be around long enough to find out. She’d made it nearly a week without a glimpse of Carl or a word from her father. It seemed too good to be true, and the only explanation she could think of was that her father was so angry that he really didn’t want to see her ever again. Could she bear it if that was the price for her freedom?
Moments like this one with Jay made the answer seem simple. But other times, when she was alone, she felt doubtful, and guilty she’d left. She was all her father had, though he didn’t seem to return the sentiment.
“You have beautiful eyes,” Jay said, interrupting her thoughts.
“They’re the same color as yours.”
“But blond hair goes better with blue.” He gave a low chuckle.
“What?” Sarah asked. She reached behind her, touching the braid hanging down her back. “My hair is probably a mess from the boat ride, the wind.”
“Sort of.” Jay grinned. “But I like it that way. It’s softer—it looks pretty hanging around your face like that.”
“What are you laughing about then?” Sarah asked.
Jay took her hand and tucked it in his arm, then turned them both toward Hanover Street. “A girl I liked—who didn’t necessarily like me back—once told me she hoped I’d meet someone like the character from the movie Legally Blond.”
“Legally what?”
“Blond,” Jay said. “It’s a movie set at Harvard. Anyway. When Jane—this girl I liked—told me that, I couldn’t imagine that I’d ever be interested in anyone else, especially a blond. I was wrong.” He looked meaningfully at Sarah.
“This Jane wasn’t a blond, then?” Sarah said. A tightness was forming in her stomach, threatening to overtake the previous tingling warmth.
“Brunette. And brown eyes too. Another good combination,” Jay said. “Not that stuff like that should matter so much. But I guess all of us guys are somewhat susceptible to that sort of thing—physical attraction, I mean.”
Physical attraction. The words slid from her brain, down her throat, and landed like dead weight somewhere near her heart. There is absolutely nothing about me that would physically attract any guy.
“Sarah?” Jay studied her. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. Tell me more about Jane.”
“Ah.” Jay smiled, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “She’s married and has a little girl. And she was never interested in me anyway. No need to feel jealous.”
“Did you meet her here or in Seattle?” Sarah asked, her illogical fears still not quite subsiding.
Jay’s smile disappeared. “Seattle. Actually, that’s a long story. And one I’ll share with you, but not now. Tonight, at dinner.”
Sarah groaned. “Please don’t mention food yet.”
“Oh, you’ll be hungry by then,” Jay promised. “After we’ve seen Paul Revere’s place, we’re going to race bikes on Beacon Hill.”
; Sarah swallowed uneasily. But before she could tell Jay that she’d never really ridden a bike before, he’d launched into a detailed story of the famed midnight ride.
* * *
“I’m going to di—ie,” Sarah screamed as she rushed past Jay on her bike.
“Right hand! Rear brake first,” Jay shouted. He released his own brakes so he could catch her.
Sarah continued to sail down the south slope of Beacon Hill toward the Boston Common.
She was coming up fast on a parked car.
“Brake!” Jay yelled again.
This time she heard him and grasped both brakes hard enough to bring her bicycle to a halt and send it sliding sideways. Jay came up beside her, reached over, and grabbed her handlebars before she could topple over.
Heart pounding, he helped her from the seat.
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
He climbed off his own bike. “You were doing fine until we started downhill.”
“Not really,” Sarah admitted. “I just didn’t want to whine too much.”
“Wasn’t that a little bit fun?” Jay asked. “The whole wind in your hair thing?”
“Almost dying is not fun.” She walked her bike over to the curb and sat down. “I think you miss your motorcycle more than you let on.”
“I do miss it,” Jay said. “But you get a much better workout on these.” He nudged the front tire of his bike. “And really, we’ve seen a lot more today than we would have on foot.”
Sarah placed her hands beside her on the sidewalk and leaned her head back. “We have seen a lot today.” She gave him an appreciative smile. “I’m not even sure what I loved the most. Everything—except the bikes—has been fun.”
“No Space Mountain for you when we go to Disneyland,” Jay said. “And here I pegged you for the adventurous type.”
“So adventurous that I’m going to walk this thing all the way back to the rental shop.”
“Not so fast. There’s one more place on my list,” Jay said. “If you’re up for it.”
“Can we walk?” she asked.
“Nope.” Jay looked at his watch. “Not enough time.”
“Is there time for a trip to the hospital if I crash?”
“You won’t,” he assured her. “And this place is really worth it.”
“Hmm.” Sarah pulled a water bottle from the cage on her bike and took a long drink.
“Come on.” Jay held his hand out. Reluctantly she accepted it, and he pulled her up.
Jay offered a quick refresher course on the brakes, and they climbed on their bikes again. He went slow, and Sarah stayed close behind as they wound their way toward the back bay. When they finally stopped on Boylston Street at Copely Square, Jay felt the late-afternoon chill, even though he was sweating. He noticed that Sarah’s cheeks and nose were red with cold.
“You brought me all this way to see a giant teddy bear?” Sarah stared at the sculpture outside of the FAO Schwarz building.
“The bike racks are here,” Jay said, “but this isn’t our destination.”
They parked their bikes and locked them, then headed back down the street to Trinity Church. Jay was sure Sarah had noticed it as they rode past before, though she was still concentrating so much on her riding skills, she likely hadn’t been able to appreciate its grandeur.
“Trinity Church,” Jay said simply as she looked up in awe. “Shall we?” He held his hand out toward the steps.
“We can go inside?”
“Yep. And not only is it gorgeous, it’s warm.”
Sarah started up the steps without further invitation. Jay heard her quiet gasp when they entered the chancel.
“We won’t have time to see it all this visit,” he said. “But look at the stained-glass windows. They depict the life of Christ. The carvings on the pulpit are also about Jesus.”
Sarah nodded, her gaze fixed on the nearest of the magnificent windows. For the next thirty minutes, they wandered the building. Jay asked an occasional question of the tour guides posted at various locations, while Sarah studied everything with an awestruck expression.
Jay was content to linger behind. He too was usually captivated by the art and reverent beauty of the building, but today it was Sarah who held his attention. Her face was radiant as she studied each piece of art and architecture, appreciating them as only someone who was an artist herself could.
He hated the moment when he had to tap her elbow and tell her it was time to go. They had to get the bikes back before dark. Silently she followed him from the church, out to the busy street. The skyscrapers, cars, and buses seemed a harsh invasion on the peaceful world they’d just left.
She looked back at the church, sighing deeply. “You’ve studied history. What do you believe?”
“About . . . ?”
“About God, Christ.”
“I don’t know,” Jay said. “I wasn’t raised in a particular religion—never went to church growing up. But there’s something . . . a feeling I get sometimes that I’m not alone.”
“Sometimes when I sing,” Sarah began, “I feel it then—a goodness that envelops me. But today, it was . . . more . . . I don’t know.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “Just now it was beautiful. Thank you, Jay.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“But you brought me here. You helped me experience that . . . peace. That’s what it was, I think. I haven’t felt that peaceful, that safe, for as long as I can remember.”
* * *
Jay had tried to pack too much into one day, and on the train ride home it became apparent dinner wasn’t going to happen. It was all Sarah could do to keep her eyes open—and her hands safely on her lap—as her body swayed with sleep.
Poor girl, Jay thought, amused as he watched her head bob as she struggled to stay awake. She clutched the near-empty bottle of sanitizer in her mittened hand. I’ll have to buy her a case of those. And some good lotion to go with it. Taking pity—or advantage—of the situation, depending how one looked at it, he scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her.
She didn’t stiffen as she sometimes had in the past when he’d touched her, but instead leaned into him, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she murmured without opening her eyes.
“Anytime.” Jay kissed the top of her head, knowing she was too tired to notice. He leaned back against the glass, wishing the subway ride would take a little longer. A year ago, he’d been miserable, lonely. A few months—even weeks—ago, the same. Now, here he was, with a woman he liked—and who seemed to like him back—nestled at his side.
So don’t blow it, he warned himself. You’ve got a good thing started here.
They’d made leaps and bounds this week in the progress of their relationship, and the process of extracting Sarah from her shell. She’d been a willing and enthusiastic participant in everything but the bike ride.
Now that she was asleep, he let himself dwell on thoughts that had been plaguing him. It was difficult to comprehend everything she’d missed out on as a child, from really riding a bike, to trick-or-treating, to having friends. He’d thought his own childhood was bizarre, but at least he’d experienced most of the normal milestones. It seemed Sarah’s biggest adventures had been her twice-yearly appointments with the dentist.
But why? Jay wondered. Why had her father denied his only child so many of the good things in life? Was he just a control freak? Or was there something else going on? And if so, what? The possibilities—and the way Grant had implored him to watch out for Sarah—nagged at the back of Jay’s mind.
Until now he hadn’t given much credence to her father’s warnings, but riding the T at night, Sarah’s head against his shoulder, he suddenly remembered Grant’s explicit plea that she never use public transportation. And here I’ve given her the very thing she needs to take it whenever she wants. Jay recalled her excitement at getting her pass this morning.
He glanced at the other passengers. Most, he could tell, were caught up in thei
r own worlds and probably hadn’t even noticed Sarah. But a man sitting several seats down, across the aisle from them, was staring openly. When he caught Jay watching him, the man met his gaze a moment, then looked away. The hard look in his eyes unnerved Jay. He guessed the man was probably about the same age he was and at least as tall. He wore a bulky jacket that could easily hide a lot of things—like a weapon.
Unease stirred in Jay’s gut, and his arm tightened around Sarah. What if her father wasn’t as loony as he’d thought? What if there was something to his worry after all? Jay looked down at Sarah, sleeping peacefully, and felt his heart constrict. He cared for her already, and the last thing he wanted was for something, or someone, to hurt her. He wanted to protect her. But to do that he had to know what, if anything, was going on with her dad and cousin. Was there any possibility Grant was right?
Jay looked down the aisle again and met the stranger’s eyes once more.
Is there any possibility she’s in danger right now?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carl withdrew the syringe from the inside pocket of his coat. He held it up in the kitchen’s fluorescent light. “What do you think, Chief?”
“One? You just took one?” Lazy, incompetent fool. Grant ripped a paper towel from the dispenser and reached for the syringe.
Carl scowled. “Last week you’re on my case ’cause I bump a guy’s bike with my fender—it’s too much. And now this ain’t enough?” He threw the syringe on the counter, where it skidded out of Grant’s reach.“Get it yourself. I’m tired of this. Even following Sarah around was better than listening to you gripe. Least she was something to look at.”
“You’re going to be looking at the inside of a jail cell if you don’t get it right soon.” Grant pushed past Carl to retrieve the syringe. Picking it up with the paper towel, he held it up to the light. After examining it for a moment, he wrapped the needle carefully. “This is good. But it isn’t enough. You know how lax the laws are. Think of all the times I’ve gotten you off. This has to be big—so much so that no school is ever going to let him finish his degree, and no jury is going to be able to do anything but convict.”
All The Stars In Heaven Page 17