by Peggy Webb
She was still a thirtysomething schoolmarm falling to pieces because the man she was falling in love with could offer her nothing but tea and sympathy. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he also offered a big strong shoulder to cry on? A beautifully sculpted chest to lean on? A wonderful pair of arms to hide in?
Even for a little while. Sarah wasn’t the kind of woman to hide from a problem forever.
“If there is any way I can help you with your father, please let me know. I mean that sincerely, Sarah.”
“Thank you, Jim. I appreciate that.”
The sounds of tennis shoes slapping wooden floors and boys’ chatter filled the room. Then one by one her students filed out, and Sarah was left alone with Jim still leaning over the edge of her desk, his face fierce, his eyes burning like twin coals.
She drew a ragged breath. She was not herself. All this tension combined with her sleepless nights was wearing her down. She felt as if somebody else had taken over her skin, somebody who was going to cry at any minute.
She was absolutely, positively not going to cry in front of Jim. Tears would only prove to him that she was somebody who needed protecting.
Why didn’t he just go away? Why hadn’t she left the classroom the minute he came in?
“The boys are probably waiting for you, Jim.”
“Probably.”
Why did he still linger? And why did she want him to?
“I suppose I should go.”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t coming?”
“No. I have papers to grade.”
“Why don’t you spend this free time in the teacher’s lounge, Sarah? You look as if you could use some rest.”
“I don’t need a keeper, Jim.”
She jerked open her drawer and slapped her files on the desk. For a moment Jim looked as if he were going to argue with her. Instead he left the room. Stalked out would be a better terminology.
Sparks flew every time the two of them were in the same room. Unfortunately, they were sparks of anger.
Barricaded behind brick walls, Sarah spent the next fifteen minutes blindly shuffling papers. Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to see Jim or die.
She went to the bookcase where she could appear to be browsing while she was gazing at the view through the window.
“Like a spy,” she said, disgusted at her own foolishness.
That was another thing. Being around Jim Standing Bear made her giddy. Even Julie had noticed—though, thank goodness, she hadn’t noticed anything else.
On the ball court, Jim was going one-on-one with Jared, running, dribbling, pivoting, shooting. Sarah watched, fascinated. She’d read every word she could find about Jim. Because he was a Blue Angel, the news media had printed every detail they could find about his accident.
Sarah knew the kind of car he’d been driving. She knew where he’d been going. She knew the number and type of surgeries he’d had.
Here was a man with pins in his knees, a man who’d had his right shoulder broken, his spleen removed, his upper arm crushed and both wrists fractured.
He had a superb body. The body of an athlete…and a top-notch aviator. In spite of the slowed reflexes, the occasional halt in his step, there was beauty and grace in the way he moved.
There was something else, too, a pain he tried to hide behind a carefully set expression. Every play he made came at great cost to Jim.
Riveted, Sarah watched. She knew the sacrifice he’d made in coming here when he didn’t really want to be around her. Changing his mind after he’d written the letter had probably cost him a bit of pride.
What she hadn’t realized was the physical cost.
She couldn’t hide while the man she loved suffered. She had to do something, even if it was nothing more than simply being there. Sarah dashed to her desk, grabbed a sheaf of papers, then raced outside to the ball court.
Jim came over to the sidelines.
There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face, and his damp T-shirt stuck to his body in ways so enticing Sarah had to swallow a lump in her throat.
“I changed my mind,” she said.
“Great.”
His smile dazzled her. For a moment the air between them shimmered with magic, then Jim broke contact.
“Good,” he amended. “I’m glad to have a friend in my cheering section.”
Sarah kept her smile in place until he was back on the court playing ball.
She figured that if she’d set out to be an actress instead of a dancer, she’d be famous by now.
It was the last day of school and Jim figured he deserved a medal. For three weeks he’d come to Southside and coached Sarah’s boys without once giving in to his urge to touch her.
Day after day Sarah looked more exhausted, more stressed. Her dad was getting increasingly worse.
Delta had told him. Not Sarah. Around Jim she kept up a cheerful facade. She was shutting him out.
What had he expected? Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?
He knew she had to get up night after night to find her father in the garden. Delta had told him.
Jim didn’t go to his rooftop anymore. He had forfeited the right to watch Sarah dancing in the moonlight.
“Jim?”
Sarah touched him lightly on the arm. They were standing in the hallway waiting for her boys to line up for graduation from Southside.
“Thank you for coming today. You didn’t have to, you know.”
“I wanted to be here, Sarah. For Archie, for the other boys.”
For you, he thought, but he didn’t dare say it aloud. His feelings were too raw. Hers, too fragile.
“Archie wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”
“I did what I could. I hope it was enough.”
“I worry about that, Jim. Not only for Archie, but for the rest of my boys, too. What will happen to them this summer? What will happen to them when they enter high school next year? Have we done enough?”
“You certainly have, Sarah. I’ve watched you pour your heart and soul into these boys. My contribution has been small.”
“The boys have been honored by your presence, Jim. And so have I.”
In the distance they could hear Betty Jane Crocker strike the first chord of “Pomp and Circumstance.” Sarah’s boys stood all in a row, their faces shining from the unaccustomed scrubbing and from pride.
“Better hurry, Miss Sloan,” Jared said. “You gonna miss the graduation.”
“I wouldn’t miss the graduation for anything in the world.”
Sarah smiled at her boys, then held out her hand to Jim.
“Thank you again, Jim. For everything.”
He watched her walk away, watched her weave her way through the crowd, proud and tall, her head high, her back straight.
He would have still been watching if Archie hadn’t caught his attention.
“Coach? I want to thank you for all you done…did for me.”
Jim clapped the boy on the shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, Archie,” he said, meaning it. “You take care of yourself this summer, and stay out of trouble. I want to see you in regular high school next year, and I want you to stay there.”
The boy blinked back tears. “Ain’t nobody…hadn’t nobody ever cared what I done before you and Miss Sloan.”
“She’s a great lady.”
“Yeah, Coach, she is.”
Betty Jane Crocker gave the musical cue, and the boys began the processional. Archie saluted as he passed by Jim, and one by one the boys followed suit.
When the last boy had saluted and the last strains of the march died away, Jim slipped into the back of the auditorium for the ceremonies. He could see the back of Sarah’s head, but she never turned around, never looked his way.
And when the ceremonies were over, Jim hurried from the building, got into his car and drove away. Sarah Sloan and her wounded boys were out of his life forever.
Jim couldn’t bear to go home in case he accidentally
caught a glimpse of Sarah next door.
In case his heart accidentally broke.
Instead he drove to the beach and thought about a future without Sarah Sloan.
“What are you going to do now that school’s out?” Julie asked her.
“Sleep,” Sarah said.
They were in the garden having green lemon tea and raspberry tarts Julie had picked up at the bakery on the way to Sarah’s house.
“You should go somewhere. I’ll come over and make sure everything is okay with Dad and the sitters.”
“Where would I go?”
“Anywhere. London. Paris. New York, for goodness sakes.”
The thought of being alone in those cities, or any city for that matter, filled Sarah with sadness. If she was going to be by herself, she’d rather do it right at home.
“I have an idea. Why don’t I go with you? George can check on Dad.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She glanced toward Jim’s house, but there was no sign of the Bear.
“Forget about him.” Julie had always been able to read Sarah like a book. “So, he planted a few flowers in your garden. Big deal.”
“You forgot about Southside. You should have seen him with the boys, Julie. He’s a natural.”
“Now you listen to me, Sarah.” Julie took both Sarah’s hands. “You’ve got to start thinking about yourself once in a while. You can’t spend the rest of your life being caretaker to the world.”
“It’s my work, Julie.”
“All right. But don’t make it your life.” Julie nabbed two raspberry tarts and handed one to her sister. “I’m packing the kids off to camp next week, and I’ll be free as a breeze. It would be fun to shop at Bloomingdale’s with my sister.”
Julie reconsidered a moment, then added, “Or if it would make you feel better, I’ll personally handle things here while you take a break. Promise me you’ll at least think about it, Sarah.”
“All right. I promise.”
The beach was a great place to run with the sand dragging and pulling so that every step Jim took was the equivalent of four, he figured. Besides, the beach was a great thinking place. There was nothing to interfere with the process. All that water and fresh air. No noise except the occasional cry of seagulls and the soft swooshing of the surf breaking against the shore.
What he thought about most was Sarah, about how much he missed her. With a start he realized he was addicted to her. The two days a week at Southside had not been a mere act of compassion for her boys; they had been Jim’s fix.
Now all he had to keep him going was an occasional glimpse of Sarah out the window. It wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.
He had to see her in person. He had to be close enough to see the way her eyes turned the deep green of summer pastures when she was happy. He had to be close enough to inhale the heady scent that was all her own.
He raced back to his car with that damnable hitch in his gait that no amount of running would cure, then hurried home to shower, breaking a speed limit here and there.
Something he’d never done when he was flying his Hornet. God, how he missed speed. How he missed that heart-in-throat moment of takeoff when the G forces plastered him to the seat and felt as if they would never let go.
Don’t think about it. Think about Sarah.
In many ways, being with her was the same as takeoff. There were times when she immobilized him with forces beyond his control.
Back home he showered and dressed and was ringing her doorbell in the time it normally would have taken him to shave. The door was already opening when he realized he didn’t know what he was going to say, what excuse he would give for coming.
Then Sarah smiled at him, and it no longer mattered.
“Jim, how nice to see you. Won’t you come in?”
It was that easy. He was in her house, breathing in her fragrance and basking in the warm glow of her smile.
She led him into the library where French doors overlooked her garden, and a copy of Everyday Zen lay open on a table beside a comfortable-looking chair. For some reason the cozy scene made him sad. He thought of his own den with its masculine furniture and stone fireplace and ceiling-to-floor bookshelves filled with his favorite books.
It should have been cozy, but it wasn’t. Sometimes late at night he’d be reading, then suddenly look up as if expecting to see someone sitting across the room, somebody with soft skin and a soft smile, somebody with firelight shining in her dark hair. But the chair would be empty.
You’re going soft, he’d tell himself, or worse, getting old.
Now he realized that wasn’t true. He was lonely.
Somewhat shaken by the knowledge, he took the chair Sarah offered, then sat pondering his life while she hurried to the kitchen to get him a cup of tea.
Tea was the last thing he wanted. He wanted Sarah. It was that simple. In spite of all his noble resolutions and high-flying honor, he’d overlooked the basic truth: he was irrevocably attracted to Sarah Sloan and he could never be merely her friend.
“I know you like it hot.” She gave him the teacup, then blushed as their hands touched.
Damn the tea. Jim wanted to pull her onto his lap and kiss her until the blush colored her whole face. Her whole body. He wanted to kiss her until she was rosy all over.
Instead he took his tea and she took her seat beside the window. The sun streaming through made her look like a Madonna. Jim silently cursed the sun. He didn’t want to think of Sarah as virginal and untouchable.
“What have you been doing since school is out?” she asked.
“Reading, running, trying to get myself back into shape. I got fat and lazy in the wheelchair.”
“Not that I noticed,” she said, then blushed furiously and tried to cover with chatter. “I’ve been reading like crazy, too. Novels, mostly, but sometimes something like this.” She held up her book on Zen. “Every year after school is out I rediscover reading for pleasure.”
“What else do you do for pleasure, Sarah?”
He hadn’t meant to say that, but now it was too late. The question with all its intimate overtones hovered between them like the proverbial elephant in the living room.
“I used to love to travel. Julie wants the two of us to go to New York, but I don’t want to get that far away from Dad and besides, I can’t seem to work up the enthusiasm she has for shopping.”
Her hand flew to her mouth as if she could take back the words. It was a gesture Jim knew well, and one that always made him feel warm inside.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Julie is a wonderful person, and far, far too intelligent and substantive to be mistaken for a shopaholic.”
“I would never make that mistake. She’s a lovely woman in every way.”
“Oh, that’s right. You know her. She was here when you planted the flowers.” Her smile lit her whole face. “I love them. Every time I go into the garden, I think of you.”
Jim basked in her praise. He couldn’t help himself. Especially when her eyes turned that wonderful deep shade of emerald he loved so well.
“And Archie, too, of course.”
Nothing she said could take away the warm glow that lit his whole insides, and he supposed that was why he found himself on the verge of making such a rash offer.
Alarm bells went off all over his head, but he ignored them.
“If you still have a mind to travel, you can go to New Orleans with me.”
What the heck? It was a perfectly legitimate travel offer, wasn’t it? Two people motoring down to New Orleans, one for business, the other for pleasure. Sightseeing pleasure, that is. And it was only a few hours away.
Sarah had the deliciously heated look of a woman who had just risen from a long bath. Or from a long hot afternoon in bed with her lover.
Jim’s thoughts were getting more dangerous by the minute. But it was too late now.
He was in her house and the offer was on that table. If he reneged he would lose her completely.
>
“My brother’s graduating from medical school. I’ll get us a couple of rooms and you can take in the sights while I dispense brotherly advice.”
His belated explanation did nothing to dim Sarah’s glow.
“Why…” His blood pressure shot up ten degrees when her pink tongue flicked out and wet her lips. “I think that would be…” She did the tongue thing again, and Jim had to ram his fists into his pockets to keep from reaching for her. “…perfectly lovely.”
Flying without a plane was a new experience to Jim. That’s how he got home. He didn’t come down until the middle of the night. And then it was a crash landing.
“How am I going to keep my hands off her for five days?”
Sarah couldn’t sleep for thinking about what she’d done. She could still change her mind, she told herself. Going to New Orleans with Jim Standing Bear was not only foolish and frivolous, it was downright dangerous.
Separate rooms, he’d said, and that all sounded well and good till Sarah thought about the connecting door. Then she got so deliciously hot she had to throw the covers back and march downstairs into the kitchen to make herself a big glass of lemonade. Freshly squeezed.
Mauling the lemons helped some. But not much.
She went into the library to read, but she didn’t have Zen on her mind—all that stillness and contemplation. What she had on her mind wouldn’t do to tell.
Especially not Julie.
Lord, what was she going to tell Julie?
“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” she said, then giggled at her untypical Scarlett-like response to a problem that was growing by leaps and bounds.
In the morning it would be so big Sarah would have to move out of the house to escape it. Or leave the house. As in a trip to New Orleans.
Sarah looked at the clock so she could mark the moment. At precisely 3:35 a.m. she knew that she was going to New Orleans with Jim Standing Bear.
Smiling, she sank into a blissful sleep that lasted until Delta’s vacuuming woke her up. Sarah reached for the phone.
“Julie, I’ve decided to take that trip.”
“Great. Let’s stay at the Algonquin. Or would you prefer something overlooking Central Park?”