Return of the Runaway Bride

by Donna Fasano

  "Well, that's good," Miz Ida commented.

  "In fact," Savanna continued, "I've seen him several times this week. He smiled. He waved. He even stopped and talked to me in a most friendly fashion when we happened to meet in the post office." She couldn't help overdoing it. She felt a desperate need to look out for her reputation. And Daniel's. Savanna raised a cocked eyebrow at Miz Ida. "I'm surprised you hadn't heard about that."

  "Now don't go gettin' all bent out of shape," Ida said. "I only brought it up because Daniel is the attorney for the hospital. He's on the board, so he'll be at the meeting tonight. He'll get to vote on any ideas you bring up. And I'd rather not see you go into the meeting with one strike against you."

  "I know that Daniel's on the board," she said. "And that shouldn't be a problem." Her tone was a little vague. She wasn't really worried that she'd be working with Daniel on this fund-raising effort. She was concerned to learn that stories were being passed around about the two of them. She was sure Daniel wouldn't like it, either.

  As Savanna pulled her car into a parking space in front of the hospital, she caught sight of Daniel walking toward the main entrance.

  "I also wanted to know," Miz Ida started tentatively, "whether you were in a position to—"

  "Just a minute." Savanna leaned toward her open window. "There's Daniel now."

  This was a great opportunity to show Ida the friendly relationship she and Daniel shared. It just may put an end to all the talk. Honking the horn, Savanna waved furiously.

  "Hello, Daniel," she called.

  He lifted his hand in greeting, offered them a smile, and then disappeared into the building.

  There, Savanna thought, if that doesn't show Ida nothing would.

  Savanna opened her car door. "Let's get in there, Miz Ida. We don't want to be late."

  She chose to ignore Ida's frustrated grumble. Savanna felt the woman would just have to deal with her disappointment regarding the rumors of trouble.

  "I can't wait to present my ideas to the board," Savanna said as she pushed the button in the elevator that would take them to the third floor. "Does everyone know I'm coming to give some input?"

  Miz Ida hesitated before replying, "Most of them do."

  Savanna felt a tingle of suspicion creep along her skin at the sound of Ida's guilty tone. "Most?" she asked.

  "Well," Ida began, "I couldn't...I didn't know if... I wanted to wait and see..."

  Squaring her shoulders and narrowing her eyes, Savanna turned to face Ida and said, "You didn't tell Daniel."

  "Well...you see...I..." Miz Ida stammered. "It's not that I wasn't going to tell him at all. I simply didn't have the opportunity to do it."

  "Right," Savanna said wryly. "Miz Ida, you not having the opportunity to relay some tidbit of information to someone is about as believable as the Statue of Liberty walking down Main Street."

  Ida looked truly chagrined.

  "He'll find out soon enough," Ida said. "Besides, if the two of you are on such friendly terms, then he won't mind in the least."

  Savanna nodded her head with assurance. "He won't mind in the least."

  Walking into the meeting room, she was surprised by how many people were in attendance. Miz Ida confirmed that many people of the community were concerned about the hospital and would be affected if the private establishment failed.

  Several minutes were spent as Savanna greeted those citizens of Fulton she knew and was introduced to some she didn't. When Jim Thompson called the meeting to order, Savanna took a seat among the nonvoting attendants while Ida sat at her designated place at the long table in the front of the room.

  The board discussed several different topics pertaining to the hospital and its employees' welfare. Savanna's attention slipped as her eyes were drawn to Daniel. He looked preoccupied, as though be might he upset by something. Maybe he'd had a rough day.

  Savanna thought back to last weekend when they had had their talk. She'd been speechless when she'd opened the small box and seen that he'd kept the pearl buttons that she'd ripped from her wedding dress. As Daniel had explained how very hard it had been for him to face everyone that day, her heart had ached with empathy. He had gone on to describe the hellish few days he'd spent in Fulton until he'd finally had all he could take and decided to return to school early.

  She had let him talk Sunday afternoon. Let him get it all out of his system. By the time she'd left Daniel's house, she felt they had come to a new understanding of each other. She was happy about that.

  What she wasn't happy about, though, was the way Daniel kept coming to the forefront of her mind. Ever since their talk, she'd been bombarded with thoughts of him. Memories, old and new, continually flitted through her brain with no provocation whatsoever. And at night she was plagued by dreams, misty, erotic images that floated just out of her grasp with the dawning of the sun.

  Savanna found herself looking for Daniel on her excursions into town, watching for him to drive by her house, hoping with each ring of the telephone that she would hear his voice on the other end of the line. She knew her behavior was ridiculous; he'd given no indication that he planned to see her or even contact her. But she watched and waited nonetheless.

  It was becoming a problem. A problem she really didn't need. She knew she would…

  "I'd like to present Ms. Savanna Langford."

  The tail end of Ida Watson's introduction snapped Savanna to attention. She blinked and sat up straight.

  "Come on up here, Savanna," Miz Ida called.

  Picking up her briefcase, Savanna went to the front of the room. She placed her notebook on the table and took a seat.

  "Everyone remembers Savanna, I'm sure," Ida commented. "I told you all that she offered to come and volunteer some of her time and expertise."

  A muffled sigh erupted, and Savanna's eyes darted to Daniel's end of the table. Ida pointedly ignored the sound and continued talking.

  "As you all know, Savanna is a professional fundraiser," Ida said, "and she's going to give us some ideas on how we can raise some money for the hospital."

  Jim Thompson smiled a hearty welcome. "We're glad to have your help. Tell us what you have in mind."

  After opening her notebook and scanning the page of notes she'd written, Savanna looked along the line of board members seated at the table.

  "First," she said, "I'd like to let you know how pleased I am to be able to give something back to Fulton General. My father was given such expert care here when he fell off that ladder and broke his arm. And my mother wrote and told me how she wouldn't trust anyone but the doctors here to help her get her ulcer under control."

  Savanna paused a moment. "The people at this hospital have taken care of the most important people in my life. Not only that, but the people who work here truly care about their patients. The nurse who cared for my father came to visit him at home after he was discharged. The ivy plant she brought him is still growing in the yard.''

  Her lips curled in a smile as she concluded, "I just want to let all of you know that I sincerely want to help Fulton General stay in business."

  Her speech was met with enthusiasm and appreciation. Smoothing her hand over her notes, she cleared her throat and said, "Now let's get down to business. I've come up with several ideas that I think will work. The first is a carnival." Savanna looked at the faces of the board members. "I've worked with two carnival owners in the past. Both offer something for people of all ages. There are kiddie rides for the younger children, faster rides for teens and everyone loves the games of skill and chance."

  A murmur of approval rose from the people sitting behind her. The board members looked open to the idea. All but one. She couldn't stop to wonder why Daniel was so grim-faced.

  "We pay the carnival owner a flat fee," she continued with her explanation, "and we raise the price of the rides to make a profit. And believe me, the profit is more than you might imagine. The last carnival I planned—

  "It won't work." Daniel's voice was
flat, emotionless.

  She turned her head and their gazes collided.

  "Why do you say that?" she asked.

  "It sounds as though you should have been given a little more information."

  Savanna could tell his sarcastic barb was directed at Miz Ida.

  "More information?" Savanna kept her tone light in an effort to hide the trepidation that sprouted right in the area of her solar plexus.

  Daniel glanced around the table and finally his eyes clashed once again with hers.

  "Since no one seems inclined to clue you in on our little problem, I guess I'm the one who'll have to pass on the bad news." He leaned toward the table and rested his weight on his elbows. "We have little to no working capital where this fund-raising effort is concerned. And since booking a carnival involves coughing up a hefty sum of money..." He hesitated, looking for a reaction from her.

  Savanna could only nod. He was correct. Front money was needed in order to get the carnival to come to town.

  He raised his chin and peered at her. "Then like I said, it won't work."

  She stared at him a long moment. It bothered her that he seemed so pleased to have put an end to the carnival concept.

  "Well," Savanna started slowly. Then she looked at Jim, the president of the board. "Is that true?"

  Jim nodded solemnly. "I'm afraid it is."

  The total failure of her first idea didn't bother her as much as Daniel's strange demeanor. She hadn't expected his brusque behavior and she didn't know what was causing it. The worst thing was that she didn't have time to contemplate it, either.

  "Okay," she said, thinking aloud, "then we need to keep it simple. How about using a telemarketing approach?"

  She could see them waiting for her to explain. "This idea has no out-of-pocket cost, except for a few phone lines. And we already have those here at the hospital. We gather a few volunteers, make lots of calls, tell people our problem and ask for their help. Their monetary help."

  "You mean beg?"

  This time Daniel's tone held a hostile edge that was unmistakable.

  Savanna looked him in the eye. "I'd prefer the phrase 'calling pleas,' or 'tele-petitioning.'"

  "You just make that up?" he asked.

  Was that a snicker she'd heard come from him? The anxiety she'd felt because of his questions now turned to ire. Why was he so set on negating every word that came out of her mouth?

  "I'll have you know," she informed him, "that this telemarketing angle has worked very well for me and my former clients in the past."

  She glanced down the table, looking for some support. But everyone seemed content to sit and watch her and Daniel butt heads. Well, she had no intention of putting on a show for anyone.

  "Fine," she said. "If that idea won't work for you…" she looked down at her notebook "…then how about a dinner? A big dinner. A grand, once-a-year gala of a dinner."

  "How in the world could a dinner—" Daniel put special emphasis on the last word "—earn the kind of money we need to keep this hospital going?"

  "You let me worry about that," she heard herself snap. She looked down at her notes and gritted her teeth. What was wrong with him? Why was he so hell-bent against every idea she suggested?

  "Savanna?" Jim asked quietly.

  She was relieved to give him her attention.

  "Daniel has a legitimate question," he said. "It seems that a dinner would cost money, not make money."

  Savanna straightened her spine. "Then I didn't explain myself very well. A fund-raising dinner can be a lot of work for a lot of people. But if it's put together correctly and managed well from the very start, then quite a lot of money can be made."

  She named a figure and eyebrows shot up all the way down the table. All the way down to Daniel, that is. If he was impressed, he certainly was doing a fine job of hiding it.

  "It just won't work" was all he said.

  "Of course it will," she told him, her voice louder than she'd intended. She took a deep breath and added, almost plaintively, "If you'll give my idea a chance, you'll see."

  What was she doing? She didn't need to grovel to him. There were fourteen other people on the hospital board. All she had to do was persuade them that she knew what she was talking about.

  She made a point of avoiding Daniel's gaze altogether as she said, "This idea will work fine. If we can persuade area businesses to donate, or sell to us at cost, the supplies we'll need."

  "How will we pay for these supplies?" Daniel asked.

  Savanna didn't even glance his way when she answered. "Dinner tickets will cost five hundred dollars a plate."

  Someone in the group behind her gave a surprised whistle.

  She nodded. "That's how we make our money. And maybe we could have a head table for Fulton's most prominent citizens." She grinned wickedly "And we'll charge them a couple thousand. Maybe more."

  "Dollars?"

  The statement obviously boggled Daniel's mind.

  "Yes," Savanna said. "You want to raise money, don't you? There's much more than just dinner taking place. That's why it's called a gala event. People dress to the nines. They come to see and be seen. The media will be out in force. People will see their names and pictures in local papers and a national magazine or two, if I can make that happen. And let's not forget the network news." Her tone was accusatory as she asked, "Daniel, wouldn't you cough up a few thousand dollars to save Fulton General?"

  He ignored her question.

  "The people of Fulton can't afford that kind of money," Daniel said. "You better take your fancy ideas back to the big city, Savanna."

  His snide remark stung like a well-aimed slap. A knee-jerk instinct compelled her to strike back. But she controlled her tongue. She refused to make a spectacle of herself in front of all these people.

  Calmly she remarked, "There's no reason to stay in the confines of Fulton with our fund-raising efforts. People come from all over the county to be treated at Fulton General. We'll invite the Governor and the State Legislators. And there must be a Hollywood celebrity or two who own property in Virginia. If these people knew the hospital was in trouble, don't you think they would want to help?"

  Her question raised a great deal of murmuring from the group behind Savanna and those sitting at the table. It was evident that the idea of petitioning the entire county, let alone the state, hadn't come up before now. Soon, no one speaker was leading the meeting as people talked out of turn, everyone discussing the merits of Savanna's ideas.

  "Hold on just a minute." Jim Thompson tried to bring some semblance of order back to the meeting. "It seems as though we need some time to chew this over. Why don't we take a short break? There are doughnuts and coffee on the table at the back of the room. Everyone, help yourselves."

  As people gravitated toward the refreshments, Savanna made a beeline to Daniel.

  "Could I speak to you a moment?" she asked him.

  He nodded once curtly, then stood stock-still.

  "Not here," Savanna said, nearly hissing the words. "In private."

  She turned, went out the door and into the hallway. Although she couldn't actually see him, she sensed his commanding presence close on her heels.

  Rounding a corner, she found an empty office and flipped on the light switch. She plunked her fist down on her hip and glared into his face.

  "Well?" she asked.

  "Well, what?"

  "You know exactly what."

  He simply folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorjamb.

  "Great," she muttered. "Now you clam up. Listen, I want to know what's wrong with you. And I want to know now. I thought we worked all this out last Sunday night. I'm trying to help these people and you... you keep..."

  "I keep what?"

  "You keep knocking me down." She glared and waited for him to refute her accusation. When he did, she would have just the right words ready for him.

  "What does our discussion Sunday night have to do with this fund-raising meetin
g?" he asked. "Come on, Savanna. Keep your arguments straight. We're either going to fight about one thing or the other."

  The man was infuriating, the way he never said or did what she expected him to. In her frustration, she snapped, "Sunday night's discussion has everything to do with this meeting and you know it!" She pointed at him. "You say that you've forgiven me. You say that you've let go of your anger against me. But let's face it, you've shown here tonight that you haven't done either."

  Daniel cocked his head, his brow furrowing. "Let me get this straight. You think that my being angry with you over something that happened six years ago has something to do with my finding fault with some of your fund-raising ideas?"

  "Some of my ideas?" She was awed by his audacity. "I think your being against all of my ideas would have better explained what happened in there." She didn't wait for him to respond, but barreled ahead. "And, yes. I think your anger toward me is keeping you from considering with an open mind anything I have to say."

  When he spoke his voice was quiet. "The anger I felt." He stressed the past tense of the verb. "And that has nothing whatsoever to do with my negativity toward your efforts to help the hospital."

  "What, then?" she asked, her tone clearly expressing the tension coiling inside her. "I'm committed to helping the hospital."

  "I realize," he began, "that you think you're committed to the idea of helping us."

  Savanna's brows drew together. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

  Daniel sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "I guess I didn't say that very well. What I meant was... I meant—" He stopped abruptly, shoved himself away from the doorjamb, and stood with his feet planted firmly apart. "Let's just stick to the original issue. My anger toward you had nothing to do with what went on in the meeting." His hand began to bob as he punctuated each word. "You can believe me when I say I am not angry with you."

  He seemed so sincere and that confused Savanna. If it hadn't been his anger, then what had made him so opposed to everything she'd said?