by Peggy Webb
“It will be my pleasure.”
Panicked and trying not to show it, she reached for his hand. She was going to make a fool of herself. She’d forgotten every dance step she ever knew.
He led her onto the dance floor and pulled her into his arms.
Sarah’s feet remembered first, then her stiff arms, then her whole body, and quite suddenly she was dancing. Really dancing. Twirling around a polished floor in a public place with the man she loved.
She felt beautiful.
Every mile the odometer ticked off was a stake driven through Jim’s heart. He couldn’t believe it was over.
He couldn’t believe it had ever happened.
Jim and Sarah and a love that made the world stand still.
No, not love, he corrected himself. Something else. Passion. That was it.
He’d let himself get carried away by passion. The only way he could salve his conscience was by looking at Sarah. She positively glowed. Did that mean he hadn’t done any harm? God, he hoped that was the case. He prayed it was.
She was quiet sitting on her side of the car. Every now and then she’d steal a glance at him and her cheeks would color up. Then she’d smile.
She had a beautiful smile. If he never remembered anything else about the past five days, he would remember Sarah’s smile.
The sign on the side of the road said, Pensacola, ten miles. They were almost home.
What was he going to say to this trusting woman? Thanks for the fun? See you around?
He turned onto their street. Soon he’d be at their houses. That was it. They lived close enough to pop over every now and then and…
And what, jerk? Have a quick tumble in the hay?
Sarah was worth more than that. Far more. She deserved it all, the ring, the marriage, the husband. Things he couldn’t give her. Things that required a man with a future.
“Well, here we are.” He sounded like some sappy counselor welcoming reluctant children to summer camp. His skin was stretched tight over a smile that wouldn’t pass for good humor in a thousand years.
“Thank you, Jim.” Sarah offered her hand. “For everything.”
Saved by Sarah’s grace. Why didn’t that make him feel better?
“It was my pleasure.”
She was looking at him with bright expectancy, and his heart was doing funny things in his chest. He didn’t want to tell her goodbye.
“Sarah.”
“Yes?” She beamed him a look that broke his heart.
He cupped her face and kissed her on the lips, softly, tenderly. To take more would be unfair.
“Take care of yourself, Sarah Sloan.” He caressed her face, memorizing every inch of it with his hands. “If you ever need anything, anything at all, call me.”
“Yes, I will,” she said, but he knew she wouldn’t. She had too much pride.
He got her things and escorted her to the door. His footsteps sounded like bombs dropping on the pavement. Right up until the time he reached her door he was trying to think of a way they could recapture New Orleans, recreate it right here in Pensacola.
Selfish bastard. Let it go. Clean cuts healed quickly, didn’t they?
She lingered in the doorway with a wistful look on her face that made him want to kiss her again. And again.
Why prolong the agony? Jim rammed his hands into his pockets. Hard.
“Well, then…” Her voice washed over him like silk, like the silk he’d stripped away from her last night right before they took that long, heady journey into the land of erotic pleasures.
Desire reared its insistent head right there on her doorstep, and need of her became an ache in his heart that might never go away.
“Bye, Jim.”
She sounded like a little girl, lost, and the words he’d meant to say got clogged in his throat. Mumbling something he hoped passed for goodbye, he hurried across the porch and down the steps.
He didn’t look back until he was safely in his house. And when he did he thought of Sarah dancing in his arms with her skirt swirling around her like moonbeams.
He wondered if she would ever dance again.
Julie was waiting for her, and the minute she saw Sarah’s face she said, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Sarah said, trying to be brave, but all the bravado in the world couldn’t cover the flood of misery that churned inside her.
Julie saw right through her. “Come into the kitchen and I’ll make us some tea.”
“Let me put my bags up.”
“Forget the bags. They’ll keep.”
Julie busied herself with tea things while Sarah tried not to glance out the window to see if she could see anything at the house next door.
Guilt smote her. Here she was thinking of her own problems and she hadn’t even asked about her father.
“How did it go with Dad?”
“Oh, Lord, Sarah. He’s a handful. We’ve got to do something.”
“Julie…” Her sister was working up to another awful discussion about a nursing home. “You know how I feel about that.”
“Okay. All right.” Julie threw up her hands. “I’m just glad you’re back, that’s all.” Julie set the teacups on the table, then pulled out a chair. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
“I fell in love while I was in New Orleans, long before that, actually, and now he’s gone and he’s not ever coming back.” Sarah put her hand over her heart. “I don’t think I can breathe without him, Julie.”
“It’s Jim Standing Bear, isn’t it?”
There was no use denying it. Obviously Julie had seen him drive off. Or maybe she’d put two and two together.
Sarah merely nodded. If she said more her dam of tears would burst and she might never stop crying.
“You’re going to be all right, Sarah.”
Her suave assurances made Sarah mad. “How do you know? How can you possibly know?”
“Do you know how many men I loved before I married George?” Julie didn’t wait for an answer. Instead she held up three fingers. “I loved every one of them, but with each goodbye, I learned something.
“Now, you listen hard, Sarah. I learned that I am a strong and wonderful and worthy woman all by myself. I don’t need anybody to validate that. And neither do you.”
Suddenly Julie grinned. “You didn’t know I was so wise, did you? Admit it.”
“Well, of course, I’ve… No, I didn’t.”
“All right, then, truth time. Does he love you back?”
“I don’t know.”
“So what are you going to do? Sit over here and wallow in despair? No sirree, you are not. You’re going over there tomorrow and have a heart-to-heart talk with him. I’ll bet you didn’t even tell him how you felt, did you?”
Sarah didn’t have to say anything. Her expression was a dead giveaway.
“I knew it,” Julie said. “You’re going to march yourself over there tomorrow and tell him the truth. Promise me, Sarah.”
Already, Sarah was feeling better. What if Jim was sitting in his kitchen just as miserable as she? What if he thought she didn’t love him?
“I promise.”
It was a promise she didn’t keep. That night a tropical storm blew out of the gulf, smashed into Biloxi, Mississippi and spawned rain squalls as far east as Tallahassee. Sarah awoke to the sound of torrential rain slashing against her windows.
She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head, but sleep wouldn’t come. Something besides the rain was disturbing her, pricking at her until she finally got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall.
Her father’s door was ajar. In the dim glow of the night-light she could see Evelyn Grimes asleep in her chair.
Alarm skittered through Sarah. Across the room her father’s bed was empty.
“Mrs. Grimes, wake up.” She shook the woman’s shoulder. “Where’s Dad?”
Evelyn Grimes sputtered and snorted, then sat bolt upright.
“He’s right…” She looked at the empty be
d, and guilt spread across her face. “I was feeling a little sick… I went to the bathroom… I must have closed my eyes for just a minute.”
There was no telling how long the woman had been asleep, nor how long she’d been sleeping on the job, which could account for all the nights Sarah had found her father in the garden. But none of that was important now. What mattered was finding her father.
“You search the house. I’ll look in the garden.”
Sarah didn’t even stop for her shoes. She took the stairs two at a time, and raced into the garden.
“Dad!”
Rain soaked her gown and plastered her hair to her head. It was coming down in thick sheets that beat the flowers to the ground and obscured the garden furniture. Sarah couldn’t even see her garden angel.
“Dad,” she called, panicked now, frantic, running through the garden like a madwoman, searching for the man she knew in her heart was not there.
She stumbled on the slick stone and went down onto her knees.
“Please, God,” she prayed. “Please.”
She struggled to her feet and covered every inch of the garden, searching for her dad and calling his name.
Jim sat straight up in bed, and he was saying, “Sarah.” She’d disturbed his dreams all night. Was he still dreaming of her?
The storm beat against his house and the winds rattled the windowpanes. Sarah. Her name whispered through his mind once more and the hairs at the back of his neck stood on end.
Something was wrong. Jim felt it in his bones. He grabbed his pants and shirt. He wasn’t about to ignore his instincts this time. The last time he’d done that he’d cracked himself to pieces on the bridge crossing the causeway.
He heard her the minute he stepped out his front door, or was that the wind? Jim sprinted toward the hedge.
There. The sound came again. It was definitely Sarah, calling for her father, and it was coming from the garden.
“Sarah! It’s me. Jim.”
She was on her knees, soaked and shaken. Jim scooped her up and held her close, consequences be damned.
“Tell me Sarah, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Dad.” She was clutching a pair of sodden suede slippers. “These are his. Oh, Jim…”
Sobs shook her, and she buried her face against his chest.
“It’s going to be all right, Sarah. We’ll find him.”
“How? He’s not in the garden. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“We will find him, Sarah. But first we have to get you out of that wet gown and into some clothes.”
He hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. In this city somewhere was one lone old man who didn’t even know his own name. Sending a prayer winging upward, he headed to the house.
Sarah had never been so glad to see anybody in her life. Jim would make everything all right. She pressed closer to him, inhaled his familiar scent. She was selfish. Selfish to the core. Stealing pleasure in the midst of her father’s disappearance.
“I can walk, Jim.”
Thankfully he ignored her. Her knees hurt, she was cold and wet, and she was so tired of being in charge she wanted to weep for the next eighteen Tuesdays.
“You’ve hurt yourself,” he said, looking at the bloodstain on her gown.
“It’s nothing. Just scraped my knees.”
“Scraped knees don’t qualify as nothing, Sarah.”
Jim shoved open the door with his shoulder, and Mrs. Grimes met him in the hallway. Her severely plucked eyebrows shot up into her hairline when she saw Jim and Sarah.
“Did you find him?” Sarah asked.
She was surprised at how calm she sounded. It was mostly due to Jim. He was rock-hard and enduring. Being in his arms was like being in the protective lee of a mountain.
“No. I’ve looked everywhere.”
“Then look again. Especially in the closets.”
Mrs. Grimes disappeared into the library.
“Which way to your bedroom?” Jim asked.
“Upstairs.”
He strode that way, still carrying her as if she were a newborn.
“What are you doing? Put me down. We’ve got to find Dad.”
“I’m taking you upstairs so you can see about that knee and get out of those wet clothes. I’ll find your father.”
“Not without me, you won’t.”
They had reached her bedroom, and under other circumstances she’d have been giddy at the thought of the Bear standing among her personal things. The three-way mirror on her dressing table reflected the two of them, and the vision brought back so many memories, she wanted to cry.
Jim set her on a chair. “Don’t move,” he ordered, then he was in her bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. When he came back he had hydrogen peroxide, iodine ointment and bandages.
“Here. Take care of your knees, then put on some dry clothes. I’ll be back before you know it.”
“Wait a minute.” Sarah scrambled for her shoes. “You’re not going anywhere without me.”
“Your knee is banged up, you’re soaked to the skin—”
“I’m going, Jim. He’s my dad.”
For a moment he looked as if he would argue. Then he picked her up and carried her to the bed. Another time, another place whispered through the room, and their gazes met, held. A flame leaped in his eyes, and he bent so close she thought he was going to kiss her.
She wanted him to kiss her. Here. Now. She wanted it so much she almost cried out for it.
Shame came hard on the heels of desire. What kind of woman was she? If love made a person this selfish, she wanted nothing to do with it.
“Jim…” She licked lips suddenly gone dry.
He set her gently on the bed, then cupped her face. “If I leave you, you’ll change clothes and ignore your knee.”
His hand was on her gown, the silk sliding through his fingers. Sarah was not in her room at all. She was on a wrought-iron balcony, smelling the gardenias, feeling Jim’s lips against her own.
“I’m just going to take care of your knee, Sarah,” he murmured. “That’s all.”
“Hurry, Jim. Every second we lose is precious.”
“This will only take a second… There. See. Now get into some dry clothes. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
He left her bedroom, and Sarah took a long shuddering breath. Then she grabbed jeans and a sweater, rammed her feet into loafers without socks. Jim was waiting for her downstairs.
“I spoke with the police. They’re going to patrol the area, and I talked with Mrs. Grimes again. He’s definitely not in the house. Have you any idea where he might have gone?”
“None.”
“Come on, then. Let’s get going. Where’s your raincoat?”
Sarah reached into the closet to nab a slicker, and Jim covered her hand.
“Don’t worry, Sarah. He can’t have gone far. We’ll find him. I promise you.”
It was a promise she had to believe.
“Jim…thank you for being here,” she said, and then they walked out into the dark streets to begin their search.
Chapter Fifteen
They’d searched for hours, walking from neighborhood to neighborhood, hoping to turn up a clue. There was nothing. Her dad had completely vanished.
“You’re tired, Sarah. I’m calling a cab for you.”
She was so weary and footsore she thought she might never walk anywhere again as long as she lived. Even if she only wanted to go two blocks, she would take a cab.
Jim pulled out his cellular phone, but she put a hand over his.
“No. We have to find him, Jim.”
“You’re soaked.”
It was true. Even with the slicker, she was wringing wet. Rain had found its way through every possible opening. Her shoes squished when she walked, her hair was drenched, and her clothes soggy.
“It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except finding Dad.”
“It will be light soon, Sarah. I can get some helicopters from the
base to search.”
“That sounds so ominous, Jim. So hopeless.”
Weren’t helicopter searches a last resort? She was afraid to ask. They were coming up to a major thoroughfare, four lanes filled with predawn traffic. On the corner stood a telephone booth and a ubiquitous concrete bench.
“Let’s sit here and regroup,” Jim said, and Sarah slumped gratefully onto the hard cold seat.
He draped an arm lightly around her shoulders. She would have given everything she owned to snuggle into him and put her head on his shoulder and cry. But she had too much pride.
What was more, he’d make it perfectly clear that he didn’t want her in that way any more. Or had he?
She stared at the flow of traffic while Jim called police headquarters to see if they’d turned up anything. She didn’t have to ask. His face said it all.
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
She squinted up at the streetlights while fat hot tears rolled down her cheeks. She hoped Jim would think it was rain.
“I’ll call Julie as soon as it’s light,” she said.
“We’re at the end of the residential section. Maybe we’ll turn up something on the way back home.”
“Maybe,” she said, but she didn’t really believe it.
Long ago on a crowded backstage in New York she’d learned the folly of being an eternal optimist. And even though Jim had given her back a part of her dream, she was still realistic enough to know that their chances of finding her father grew slimmer with every hour that passed.
“Let’s go back, Jim.”
She turned her collar up against the rain, for all the good it did, and was turning around when something across the street caught her eye. A green umbrella with purple pansies. Julie’s umbrella. The one she’d left behind yesterday.
“Jim, wait.” She clutched his sleeve.
“What is it, Sarah?”
“Across the street…”
The umbrella emerged from the crowd, and underneath was her dad, dressed in striped pajamas, dancing barefoot through the rain.
“It’s Dad!”
The words were no sooner out of her mouth than her father danced toward the curb and twirled onto the highway. A biker swerved to miss him and almost lost control of his motorcycle on the slick highway.