Between the Raindrops

by Schussler, Susan

  “It hurts back here. I think I may have hit my head,” she said as she put her hand to the back of her head and rubbed it gingerly.

  Will looked at the back of her head, parting her hair gently to see her scalp, but he didn’t see anything. “I don’t see a cut or bump, but we should ask the doctor.”

  Sarah continued. “When I woke up, I was lying on a gurney with an IV in my arm. Total déjà vu. Just like the accident. It was so bright, like I’d been shocked awake. I didn’t know what had happened. All I knew was I didn’t know where you were.” She leaned her head against Will’s chest, and he gently caressed the back of her head.

  “I’m here now,” he said.

  As Sarah and Will waited for the blood test results, Sam joined them in the emergency room. Sarah was in an actual room with large glass windows overlooking the nurses’ station, the kind of room usually reserved for large trauma cases. It reminded Will of the intensive care unit where Sarah had spent most of her last hospital stay, but at least it was private and the blinds on the windows were closed. Sam had driven Will’s car to the hospital and had loads of information to share.

  He told Will and Sarah how Paris had confessed to the police that she was just trying to keep her website afloat. Her husband had been injured in the fall and was worried that his hockey career might have been coming to an end. He didn’t want to sink any more money into her hobby, and their finances were starting to cause stress in their marriage. He had already been caught cheating once, so Paris knew she needed to make the website work on her own.

  The gossip site had fallen on hard times, and advertising dollars were more difficult to get. She knew if Jon got married, his female fans wouldn’t be as interested in him, and that would drop the interest in her site. Her website was her baby, and she couldn’t stand it if it went under. She hadn’t planned on hurting Sarah. She hadn’t planned anything, actually. But when she heard Sarah was already on medication, she thought she could just make her disappear for a while—long enough for Jon to realize he wasn’t ready to get married. She had some painkillers of her husband’s in her purse, and she slipped them into Sarah’s Coke. Paris kept saying that she would never do anything to hurt Jon.

  “She admitted that the engagement threw her off, that she just wanted you to be bitter enough about Sarah leaving that she would have the chance to seduce you.” Sam shook his head. “Hell, she seemed pretty obsessed with you, Jon. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has some shrine with your picture plastered all over it.”

  Sam also informed Will that there was a large group of paparazzi and reporters already amassed outside the hospital, and more were sure to come. It would be difficult to leave without running into the cameras, so Will called Remi for some advice. He filled her in on all that had happened at the hotel and the paparazzi problem.

  After hearing the story of Paris’s confession, Remi commented, “That’s ironic because the interview probably would have brought Paris so much notoriety that she never would have had to worry about advertising dollars again. It must have been the potential sex that motivated her.” Remi said she would meet them as soon as possible at the hospital and they would figure out how to deal with the press when she got there.

  Will called Kate to let her know what had happened so she wouldn’t have to hear about it in the press first. She had a lot of questions, and Will did his best to answer them honestly without frightening her. When Remi arrived, he handed the phone off to Sarah so she could continue to reassure her mother.

  Remi had spoken to the police department to determine what information the police were going to release, if any, and shared that she was not surprised that the police were planning a press conference at the hospital at five. She knew it would make the network news if it was scheduled at that time, and that was the police department’s intent.

  “The press release will break through network programming across the country. It will be good publicity for the police to solve a case so quickly with no one hurt, and with your name attached, the story will be everywhere. So it might be a good time to announce your engagement. What do you think?” Remi looked at Will with a very earnest expression. “Or you can just call Sarah your girlfriend, and you can announce it on the red carpet in February. Either way, she needs a label for this press release.”

  “Remi, my brain is fried. I can’t process anything else today. Just tell us what to do,” Will pleaded. He was mentally exhausted and had lost the ability to make decisions hours ago.

  “Let’s just leave the announcement for another day, shall we? It’ll give us another big day in the press, but I think you should announce it before the end of February. You can go on Kimmel or Ellen, make the announcement, and then show off Sarah and her ring on the red carpet.”

  “Fine. I don’t care at this point. Just make it happen.” Will didn’t really hear what he was agreeing to. He just wanted to go home with Sarah.

  “I’ll put together our own statement for the press and get working on the other stuff.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and sent a quick text. Then Remi sat on the only chair in the room and began typing on her electronic tablet.

  “A ton of people have seen my ring today, but I didn’t admit anything,” Sarah confessed.

  Remi looked up from her typing. “That’s all right. It’ll just keep them guessing and be good for publicity in the long run. Every talk show in the country will want to have Jon on to share the story of today’s adventure and to find out if you two are engaged. It will be great exposure.”

  “Super,” Will said sarcastically. “Actually, I think I’ll be happier once it’s all out there. After today, I can handle anything.” He wasn’t going to put up with any crap from the media anymore.

  The doctor came back into the room with the test results and assured Sarah that she would be fine. Narcotics were found in her blood, but she shouldn’t have any lasting effects. He cautioned her on taking her prescription pain medicine because of her reaction today and suggested that she try to manage her pain with Advil or Tylenol. Will had the doctor check the back of Sarah’s head, but since he didn’t see any obvious problem, he didn’t order any more tests. He told Sarah to ice it and to come back to the ER if she was feeling dizzy or started vomiting. He said she was free to go once the nurse came in with some papers for her to sign.

  It was nearing five when they were finally ready to leave. They planned to escape the hospital during the press conference, when the press was distracted. Remi would be out front with the police department giving her official statement, while Sam, Will, and Sarah would sneak out to Will’s car. Hopefully, they would make it out to the ramp without being swamped. The press conference would not be long, so they needed to time their escape perfectly. Remi would text Jon as soon as the cameras were rolling.

  They almost made it to Will’s car without anyone spotting them, but of course, there were a couple of paparazzi who had anticipated their plan. So Will held Sarah’s left hand determinedly, covering her ring as they made their way to the BMW, and once behind the darkly tinted windows of the car, they finally relaxed. After they dropped off Sam, they headed to their house, feeling mentally drained and famished.

  Back at the house, Will and Sarah walked into the kitchen to find Leslie unpacking the Chinese takeout she’d picked up. The sweet and fiery aroma filled their lungs as they greeted her.

  “Thought you might be hungry,” Leslie said with a smile. “It’s from Yang’s—General Tao’s chicken and Mongolian vegetable.”

  “Oh, Leslie, we love you!” Sarah said as she wrapped her arms around her in true sincerity.

  “I know. Enjoy your meal. I have to go,” she declared. “You can tell me all about it tomorrow.” She disappeared quickly, and Will knew she had left to give him and Sarah time to recover.

  Once they were alone, Will grabbed two forks from the drawer. Tossing one to Sarah, he said, “Let’s dig in.” Having no intention of making more work for themselves, they started to eat right o
ut of the cardboard cartons, switching cartons back and forth as they stood in the kitchen.

  When Will ate a snap pea right off Sarah’s fork as she brought it up to her mouth, she said, “Hey, I want that back,” and leaned in to kiss him.

  Desire overtook Will, and he was powerless to fight it any longer. They hadn’t been together in that way since September. He had been afraid of hurting her after the accident, and she still had time left on the no-physical-activity sentence imposed by her surgery, so he’d pushed it out of his mind, waiting for her body to heal, but he couldn’t wait anymore.

  It might have been sheer hunger pent up over months or just a desperate longing to break through the numbness left by the day’s events. He wasn’t sure, but he could tell Sarah felt it too. Sarah draped her arms around his neck and wove her fingers through his hair as he manipulated her snugly fitted dress up to the top of her thighs. Then he picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carried her up the stairs to the king-sized bed.

  The next day, the seriousness of what had happened to her at the hotel hit Sarah hard. It was like a dream that had actually happened. She couldn’t believe it. This kind of stuff didn’t occur in real life—yet it did. How many times had Will warned her? But could she have done anything differently to prevent it? She couldn’t fathom how she could have changed anything. Maybe if she only drank from sealed bottles, it would prevent someone from drugging her. Was this the life she had chosen? Sarah had chosen to be with Will, but she didn’t want to live her life in fear of others’ actions, either. She decided it was time to share her secret with him. He needed to know, and she couldn’t put it off any longer.

  “I want you to read this, because the only way to make our life together work is if we are completely honest with each other and I don’t want to keep any secrets from you. But before I let you read it, I want you to promise me that you will not freak out and we will still get married, no matter what it says.” She held out her journal, waiting for him to agree.

  He looked at her wide-eyed. “What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I just want you to know—so promise me.”

  “Are you sure about this?” He hesitated for a moment while he gazed into her eyes, where he must have seen that she really was sincere. “OK, I promise.”

  “What are you promising?” She wanted to reiterate what he was committing to.

  “I promise that I will not freak out and we will still get married,” he said, cocking his head to look at her as if asking, Is this really necessary?

  “OK,” she said as she handed him the journal, hoping she was doing the right thing. “I wrote this before everything happened yesterday, so keep that in mind when you read it. Start here and read to here.” She opened the book to the correct page. Sarah had the pages well marked with fluorescent-pink sticky notes hanging over their edges. Watching him intently as he settled back on the couch, she nervously arranged the pillows.

  Everyone keeps asking me what I remember about the accident, and I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to lie to them, but if I tell them the truth, it could wreck everything. I don’t know what to do.

  I saw the fear on Will’s face last summer when he was worried about the paparazzi stalking me, and in the airport, when I stopped him from leaving, he made me feel so safe in his arms, but I could feel him trembling. It’s scary the way they paralyze him. They drain him of common sense—everything goes out the window, and he can’t see the options before him.

  I suppose it would be different if they hadn’t killed Jack. Will would definitely be different if Jack’s accident had never happened. He would probably be caught up in the mecca of Hollywood, like the rest. Would I have ever met him? I doubt it. The selfish part of me says I wouldn’t change a thing about the day of his accident, because I never would have met him if it hadn’t happened. I’m so selfish. SELFISH! SELFISH! SELFISH! But I can’t imagine my life without him now. I don’t have the power to change anything anyway—moot point.

  I know why I didn’t tell Will what led up to my accident. It’s the selfishness again. I don’t want him to leave me. It would freak him out, and he would run, trying to save me from the evil paparazzi. I guess it freaks me out a bit too, thinking about that guy stalking me like that. He was there at the airport when Will abandoned his flight, the guy with the goatee and the receding hairline. I don’t think I will ever forget his face now. I wonder if he was the one who took the picture of me in the beer garden at the fair. I guess I’ll never know for sure who took that picture, but part of me hopes that it was him. Otherwise, there is someone else out there stalking.

  I remember when I first saw him after the airport incident. It was a Tuesday morning, as I was leaving for my writing lab. I didn’t remember him at first. I was walking down to the corner to catch the bus. It was about a week after Will had left for Greece. I thought he was just asking for directions when he stopped me, but he knew my name. It made me nervous, and I raced through the filing cabinet in my skull, searching to make the connection. I thought I must have known him from somewhere. Maybe a professor, I thought, but I couldn’t figure it out. He made small talk at first. Then he started to ask questions like, How long have you known Jonathan? and Where did you two meet? That’s when I smiled and clammed up. I had made the connection by that point.

  After that day, he was there outside the rental house several times a week. I would see his shiny Korean car parked along the street. It was very distinctive, with its squared back end and unusual green color. Sometimes it was right in front of the house. Sometimes it was farther down the street, but always within view of the house. He didn’t always approach me, but I could feel him watching me when I left the rental. Several times, I spotted him other places too—outside the public library, inside a restaurant at the Mall of America, and on my parents’ street. He would make eye contact and smile at me, as if we were old friends. He must have seen the horror on my face, but he made no reaction to it.

  When he did approach me, it was always questions about Will and me. Once I said, “You can see he’s not here. Why are you following me?”

  His answer was, “I can tell you’re special to him. I just want to get your inside story.”

  My response was clearly rude. I was irritated and tired of being followed. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but expletives were involved. I tried to convince him we had broken up. It didn’t faze him.

  “Heard that before. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, chuckling as he walked back to his car.

  I was furious, but at least he didn’t seem dangerous, and after that day, I stopped being mortified every time I saw him. I thought it was funny that he kept wasting his time following me, and I would chuckle sometimes when I spotted him lurking. After all, Will was overseas for another month, until Christmas, and I wasn’t going to tell the stalker guy anything. I knew I couldn’t tell Will about him. He probably would have left filming and flown back to find the guy. That wouldn’t have helped, so I kept it to myself, hoping the guy would give up.

  Then a week before we were supposed to leave for Colorado, there he was, waiting outside the rental when I got back from class.

  “Sarah, are you and Jon planning a secret wedding?” he asked.

  I remember his exact phrasing because it was so different from the questions he usually asked, and I wrote it down in my journal right away. He caught me off guard, and he must have seen it on my face because he continued.

  “You do know that Jon has been spotted shopping for an engagement ring? It was all over the Internet.”

  I watched him study my face, and I tried not to react, but I’m sure my face was transparent. I kept silent as he continued.

  “I know you’re the one. Why do you think I’ve been following you?” he said smugly.

  Will stopped reading and looked over at Sarah. “You knew?” She met his eyes. “It was just a rumor. I never believe gossip.” His dimple appeared for just a second before he started
reading again.

  I looked to the sky for strength and hurried into the house. In truth, I was avoiding the Internet gossip. I had watched it at first after Will left, but after two weeks of seeing The Demigod’s director tweet about what great chemistry Will and Rachel had, I stopped checking the Internet. The gossip sites were even worse, with sightings of Will and every girl in Europe. They just made me miss him all the more, and it was all lies anyway.

  I dealt with the nastiness of Will’s fans at school already, the stares and pointing from other students. Girls would come up to me after class, telling me that I wasn’t good enough for him, how ugly I was, how they knew someone who was actually dating him and I was just a liar, so I didn’t need to read the tabloids. I was tortured enough at school. It felt like I was back in middle school.

  Then there were the girls who tried to be my best friend. They buddied up to me thinking I’d introduce them to him. They’d ask me questions, very personal questions sometimes, and expect me to just tell them everything. When they realized I wasn’t going to share our secrets, they’d fade away. The guys were worse—staring at me, sizing me up. I could see it in their eyes. Dissecting me, like there must be a good reason why such a big star would hook up with me, and their snide comments under their breath made me want to vomit.

  I got at least a couple of letters a week from Will’s fans. I had my mail forwarded to the rental house so my mom wouldn’t see all of it. I eventually didn’t even look at the mail unless I recognized the return address. I let my roommates go through it once in a while, but I didn’t want to see it. It was all hate mail anyway. I even got calls on my cell phone from tabloid reporters. I don’t know how they got the number, but I found this great app to filter my incoming calls, and it took care of the problem for the most part. With all the other hate I had to deal with, I definitely wasn’t going to seek more on the Internet.

  The stalker sat outside the house for two more days without approaching me. On the third day, I had my last final, and I needed to run errands before I left for Colorado. I didn’t have time for his games, and I was starting to worry that he was going to follow me onto the plane. I stopped at the house after my final to eat lunch, and as I ate, I thought about what this guy was hoping to get from me. I couldn’t imagine that he really expected me to spill personal information about our relationship.