Falling For Sarah (Sarah Series Book 3)

by Julieann Dove

  “Joy,” she said snidely to my excitement of being neighbors.

  “Yes, joy,” I replied just as sarcastically.

  “Do you have any Barbies?” Rose asked with dimples in her cheeks.

  June turned toward her and squinted as if she’d just smelled the dirty sock laundry. “Not hardly. I’m old enough to drive a car.”

  “Do you drive a car?”

  “No.”

  Okay, one-word answers. Better than no-word answers, I guess. We were making progress.

  We rode over the bump into my driveway and Rose unsnapped her seat belt. “June, would you like to come in and play?”

  “I’ll be going home.”

  “If someone’s not there, do you have a key?” I pulled my bags off the front passenger seat.

  “I’ll just sit on the porch.”

  “When will your dad get home?”

  She shrugged.

  I liked the one-word answers a lot better. “Well, come inside with us. I’m sure you’re hungry. Rose is always starving after school. I can make you something.”

  “No thanks.”

  Rose had trotted to the back door and was waiting for me to let her inside.

  “Okay, but if you need anything, please come over. I’ll leave the front door unlocked just in case. Just yell loud enough so I know you’re there. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  She trailed off toward her house, chin tucked and moving slowly. It was somewhat depressing. In the less than three times I’ve had a chance to take walks in the evening, I’ve noticed the house looks almost no different with people living in it. The porch was bare, except for the few renegade leaves that collected on the steps. The front door did look a lot better with a fresh coat of white paint. And the brown shutters made it seem like less of a crack home before whoever owned it did some renovations. Although I could never tell whether the new owner was ever on-site for them. Most of the men standing around in the yard or filing in the front door were either in bib overalls, or wore tool belts. I was curious what her dad did to make him so absent. Not to mention her mother. No woman I knew—well, except for Liz—would not put something ornamental in the yard. At least a flag or a red-hatted gnome. I personally had both in mine. Although I needed to change the summer bird one out for autumn leaves. Time was fleeting in my back-to-school frenzy.

  As Rose and I sat down to eat this penne pasta dish I make in a pinch for time, I thought about June and wondered whether her dad was home. The time change made darkness come more quickly these evenings, and I kept checking the front windows for any sight of movement, either from her taking me up on my invitation or her dad’s car pulling into the garage.

  “Rose, I’m going to check and see if June is still waiting. It’s been awhile and I don’t want her to be alone.”

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  I pulled my blouse closed. The evening had a sharp edge to the air. I stepped down three steps to look over next door. I saw June’s Converse high tops extend past the banister. I approached the neighboring yard with caution. I’d never had reason to step on the lawn before.

  “Hey, June,” I called out.

  She was propped against her backpack, her jacket closed tight to her neck. She opened her eyes. “Huh?”

  “Come on over. I know you must be hungry. And it’s chilly out here. We can leave a note for your dad when he comes home that you’re over at my house.”

  She wavered. Had it been warmer and lighter, she might’ve continued the stubborn streak and remained. I had the forces of nature on my side. With a heavy sigh, she gathered her bag and followed me back home. Before we got our shoes off, I’d forgotten about leaving the note. It wasn’t as though I went with pad and pen.

  “I should go leave that note.”

  “He deserves to worry. He shouldn’t have taken my phone. It isn’t like he cares, anyway.”

  I figured I’d just keep watch for his car, and led her into the kitchen. Rose was almost done with her share of the noodles. A few pieces of chicken had “fallen” off her plate.

  “Go ahead and take a seat.” I pointed to the empty chair. “Do you like pasta and cream sauce? Oh, and I have grilled chicken breast to put with it.”

  She looked at Rose’s plate with a wary eye. “I guess. What’s the green things in it?”

  “Fresh parsley.” I began preparing her plate by the stove. “Rose, please get June a drink.” I looked at the turned-up nosed girl seated at my table. “We have soda, water, milk, and tea.”

  “Soda’s fine.”

  Rose went to the fridge to get her one.

  “Where did you move from, June?”

  “New York.” Her tone was even, almost forced to be civil.

  “Wow, New York. I’ve visited a few times, but never lived there. Why did you move to Colorado?” I walked to the table and handed her the plate.

  “Because my dad has no clue what it’s like being a sophomore in high school and leaving all your friends behind. I guess he thought he’d use me as a test subject for his deranged pleasure.”

  Ah, I see. And to think, that heavy black eye makeup and hair in her eyes meant she was a happy child. “Hmm.”

  Rose squirmed in her chair. “Do you want to play something with me after dinner? I have a 3DS. We could take turns playing Mario, and see who gets the best.”

  Poor, sweet Rose. She had little clue that the girl at the table with us…the one draped in black garb and violet lipstick…was not the type to play Mario.

  June shifted her gaze to Rose. “No thanks.”

  “I’ll let you win.”

  I scraped my plate and set it by the sink. “Rose, I’m sure June’s dad will be home very soon. Let’s have her finish dinner and see if there’s time to start on any homework. Say, you don’t have any, do you?”

  “Mom…I’m only in kindergarten.” Rose rested her hands on her hips.

  I snatched her nose as I took her dish to wash it. “I keep forgetting.”

  June seemed to be inhaling her food—head bent over and fork audibly scraping the porcelain plate. It was almost gone. “June, would you like a salad? I can make you one. There’s fresh lettuce in the—”

  “No.”

  “Okay.” I turned to Rose. “Honey, why don’t you go get your poster? We’ll do some more work on it tonight. I found some of your baby pictures we can glue to it.”

  “Yay!” Rose ran off into the other room.

  “I’ve got some more if you want it.” I looked at June’s empty plate. “It wouldn’t take—”

  “No,” she said curtly, and grabbed her soda to guzzle it down.

  I sighed.

  She let out a small burp and placed the can on the table. “I mean, it was good. I appreciate it, but I don’t want any more. I just want to go home.”

  Okay, so somewhere along the way she was taught some manners. Appreciation was good. I figured she was still bruised from leaving New York and coming to the wild west of pine trees and cleaner-smelling air. I could see where it could throw someone.

  “I know. Maybe your dad should leave a key outside for times like this. Or give you one to keep in your backpack or something.”

  “He’s not the most trusting, if you know what I mean.”

  “I guess.”

  I took her plate to the sink and rinsed it. “Do you have any homework you want to get started on? I’m going to help Rose with a project. She’s the star student Friday and we have to list all her favorites and put pictures of the things she likes, and stuff like that. You’re welcome to stay in here where it’s quiet or join us in the living room. We shouldn’t be too distracting.”

  “I don’t have any homework. I’ll just draw.”

  “Okay.”

  She walked to where she earlier tossed her backpack and retrieved a sketch book. I could see her survey the room and choose the chair by the door to sit in. She curled up in it and began to put her pencil to the paper. Rose appeared, carrying her poster. We’d begun to work on it last
night and got as far as question three. It required some cutting out of magazines and choosing a few baby pictures.

  “Go through these, Rose, and tell me which is your favorite. And here are the books I brought home for you to find some of the food you like to eat. Mrs. Conner from the school was finished reading them. I’m going to finish up something on my computer quickly before I help.”

  And this was how the evening went. I kept in sight of the street to make sure I didn’t miss seeing June’s dad pull in. Either he was lying in a ditch somewhere without a cell signal, genuinely disinterested in where his daughter was, or at the local sheriff’s office posting a missing person’s report. I was getting tired of trying to figure it out, and even more tired of June’s mmmhmmm answers for every question I asked. I finished up Rose’s poster about getting to know her better, sent her for her shower, and eventually sent her to bed. June had long ditched her drawing, put her head down on the arm of the chair and began watching some police drama I’d gotten attached to. It was 8:45 before I saw car lights slow in front of the house next door.

  “June, I think your dad might be home.”

  She rose and pushed the bangs so she could see. “Okay, well, I guess I’ll be going.”

  “Well, wait a minute, it might not be him. I’m not just going to send you out there not knowing,”

  She peered out the front window. “It’s him. I’ll see you later.” She waited and turned. “Thanks for the food and not letting me freeze to death. It’s more than I can say for my father.”

  “Anytime.”

  She pulled the door and stepped out. I couldn’t find my shoes so I tiptoed in socked feet to the edge of the porch. All of a sudden, I heard someone yelling. “June. June. June, where are you? Please God, tell me you’re here.”

  She ran down the steps as her father came around the corner. He caught sight of her and grabbed hold of her, pressing her so tight I could hear her breath escape.

  “June, thank God you’re all right. I didn’t know who to call, where to call. I’d gotten some messages from the school, but I couldn’t…” He unlocked his embrace and stared at her as if she were a figment of his imagination. “Thank God you’re all right.”

  “Yeah, well, you took away my phone.”

  “I know, I know I did. But you shouldn’t have disobeyed me about your curfew.” He pointed his finger at the girl he’d just smothered in hugs. “That’s how you worried me that night and this night, too. Taking your phone is supposed to punish you, not me.”

  “Yeah, well, how did that work out for you?”

  He shook his head. “Even your smart mouth.” He took and squeezed her cheeks until her mouth pouted. “Even your smart little mouth I missed. I imagined the worst.”

  “Well, I’m cold. I’m going inside now.” She began to walk away. “Maybe you can invest in giving me a key. You know, for when you forget to come home or leave me without a device to call for help.”

  He palmed his head and rolled his eyes. Then he caught sight of me. I was the one without shoes, freezing my tush off, standing…gawking from my porch. Funny how I’d never caught sight of him before now. It pays to have a garage, I guess.

  “Hi.” He approached me. “I’m Alejandro Cruz. Friends call me Alex. Are you the one I can thank profusely for giving my daughter a place to stay while I was stuck at work?”

  So that’s what we’re calling it now? Stuck at work? Where did he work, NASA? A vault with a timed door that only opened every twelve hours to go out and pick up your defenseless daughter? Or maybe he commutes by train, and it derailed and—

  He interrupted my thoughtful, sarcastic rants. “There was a car accident just as my shift was ending. The girl was pretty much sliced in half by her seat belt. I had to operate. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for my daughter to get inside the house. I’ve told her to take her key, but she refuses, saying it will keep me from breaking my word on being home. Sometimes I can’t help it.”

  So much for deadbeat dad. I didn’t want to believe it anyway. Especially while watching him and the intensity of his brown eyes fixed on me, his tasseled hair, pulled-down tie, and that thick accent. Where was he from?

  “You’re a—”

  “Surgeon. I’m a surgeon at Liberty Hospital in Denver.” He climbed two steps and reached to shake my hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been over to introduce myself, but I’m from New York and you sort of don’t do those kinds of things.” My hand slid into his. It was warm. And large. And to think, it’s just saved a life. “Please call me Alex.”

  The way his smile lit his face, the way his five o’clock shadow carpeted those cheeks. His dark eyebrows, his moist-looking lips… My knees went a little weak. “I’m Sarah.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. And I can’t thank you enough, again, for keeping an eye on June for me. I trust she thanked you as well.”

  “She did, yes.” I hope I didn’t look as disappointed as I felt as he withdrew his hand from mine. “I actually was the one who gave her a ride home from school.”

  His jaw clenched. “Don’t tell me she missed the bus? I swear, that girl. I try to be home when she gets here, but the other day—”

  “No, she didn’t miss the bus. It’s fine. She’s fine, and we now know you’re fine. It’s all good! Really.”

  The intensity of his look softened. “Yeah, I suppose so. And my patient looks like she’ll be fine. It’s a good night after all.”

  “Yes, it is.” I crossed my arms and ignored the coldness seeping through my socks and chilling the blood circulating through my legs.

  “Well, I guess I’ll get back home.”

  “Sure. It is getting late. I’m sure you’re tired, and it’s getting chilly.”

  He wavered. His eyes fell to the steps his shoes rested on. “Thanks again.”

  “Anytime.”

  I moved slowly to my front door, trying to recall the sound of his accent. How delicious it played in my mind. How his smile looked so genuine. How I wondered where in the heck his wife was. I didn’t notice a ring. Maybe he kidnapped June, and… No, he can’t possibly save lives by day and steal them by night. There was a story behind his daughter’s anger, behind his appearance of single status. I had time to figure it out. It wasn’t as though he was going anywhere soon.

  I turned off the kitchen light over the stove, grabbed a drink from the fridge and walked to my living room to sit down and look at one of those magazines Rose didn’t manage to shred with her kindergarten scissors. The article on the front looked interesting enough. “How to make your next Thanksgiving dinner unforgettable.” Hmm… I liked the shiny turkey on the front—all buttered up for the camera, seared brown edgings where the heat made it crispy enough to break in your mouth. And those mashed potatoes, my gosh! That did it. I knew I’d been on the fence about having dinner at my house, especially considering all the turmoil last year brought, but I needed this. Food—delicious food—fabulous wine, and all my friends back together. Dysfunctional as we were. Plus one. Rick would be added to the dining experience this year. Oh, but Michael wouldn’t. And what about Maggie’s new beau? Yeah, I’d have to re-think this. As much as I could see the candlelit tablescape with Mom’s fine china, crystal glassware, and a citrus-infused bird sitting front and center with background Christmas music playing, my mind went blank when I saw who occupied the chairs. I had time to think about it.

  I threw the book on the coffee table, suddenly too tired to look at food without a purpose, and noticed something on the floor. It was next to the chair June had been in. I walked over and picked it up. It was her pencil pouch. All those pens she was using on her sketch book were piled into this black case. I knew she’d be lost without it, so I pushed on some shoes from the hall closet and slipped out my side kitchen door to run it over to their house.

  I walked around to the back door, where I could hear a motor running. The closer I got, the more distinguishable the noise became. It sounded like a modernized caldron—bubbles gurg
ling, a little fizzy sound when they splatted on the surface, and hisses from the heat. Steam rose from the water of a hot tub nestled in the back corner of his home. Steps leading up to it were flanked with topiaries. Okay, so there were some ornamental things outside—just not where joggers and nosey neighbors getting their mail could see. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to jump into that baby and soothe my aching bones.

  I walked past it, drool dripping from my chin, and walked up the three steps to Alex’s back door. There were no shades drawn so I could see perfectly what the inside looked like. Then I saw him. He stood not far from the door, holding a longneck beer and a bag of something—maybe chips. He was yelling something up a set of stairs. Although unable to discern the message, his tone was direct. I hesitated to knock. All of a sudden, I felt invasive. After all, I could see everything, knew the hot tub was fired up, and I’m holding a zipper pouch of pens. It so could have waited. He turned and caught sight of me before I could slink away. I smiled and waved, holding up this pouch and pointing to it. He set down his beer and bag and came to the door.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey.” His smile grew wide after he mimicked my awesome opening syllable.

  “This must’ve fallen out of June’s backpack. I know she’d have looked everywhere for them, so I just thought I’d pop over real quick and return it.”

  He took the bag. “Thanks. Maybe that’s why she’s up there now fussing. Although I told her to get her homework done.”

  “Let me guess—she said she didn’t have any.”

  He winked and did a finger-gun gesture. “You got it. So you have kids, too?”

  “Well, I’m a guidance counselor for the school June attends, so I am up to date on all the teenage lingo, but yes, I have a five-year-old. So I’m years away from getting the homework showdown. My daughter actually loves homework at this stage in her life. She begs the teacher to send her home with it.”