Till Death Do Us Part

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Till Death Do Us Part Page 4

by E. Jamie


  "Sara honey, you've got company."

  Sara stayed silent in the bathroom. I should have shut the door, she thought to herself.

  Mary peeked in. Sara looked up and saw another familiar face. “Aaron? Is that you?” she asked, taking in his dark hair and warm black eyes. Her throat was raw from sobbing and throwing up.

  Connor's best friend crouched to his knees in front of her. He handed her Connor's wedding ring.

  "Oh, thank you,” Sara said, placing it next to her own wedding band on her hand. She closed her fist so the big ring didn't slide off. “Did you know Connor died?"

  "Yeah, sweetie. We found out a few hours ago.” His low smooth voice was heavy with sadness.

  "Oh. Right. She asked if there was anyone she could call for me. Everything is so blurry. I killed him, Aaron. It's my fault,” she said. Guilt was a new emotion that had penetrated her broken thoughts last night.

  "Baby, no. It wasn't your fault,” Aaron assured her, his eyes red from crying.

  "Yeah, it was. It's my fault we got married and came here. I asked Connor. Did he tell you? I asked him to marry me. He should've said no. Then he wouldn't be dead."

  "Honey, no. He adored you. He wanted to marry you."

  "So you don't think he's mad at me?” Sara asked her lower lip trembling. Aaron took her in his arms and held her, trembling against him. “Aaron, I'm so sorry. I took your best friend away. I'm so sorry.” She sobbed against his chest.

  He grabbed her face roughly between his hands. “No! Sara. Do you hear me? No! This was not your fault."

  She slumped against him, exhausted. “Everything hurts, Aaron. It hurts so bad I can't breathe."

  "I know, baby. Would you like me to take you home?” he asked her, stroking her hair.

  "Home?” Sara asked. “Connor and I have a house we were going to raise our many, many babies in. I don't want to go there!” She gripped his arms. “Please, Aaron, I can't go there, not without him."

  "Okay, I'll take you to my place. How's that?"

  "No, I can't leave here. He's here.” She rubbed her arms, suddenly freezing.

  Aaron took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders before bringing her to her feet. “I'll stay here with you, and when you're ready to leave, you can come stay with me in Boston for as long as you need."

  "Oh, no. I can't ask you to do that.” Sara shook her head. She didn't want him to stay with her. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to just fall into the darkness and never ever come out because the light just hurt too much. Maybe she could just stay here forever. She could lie down on the bed and just wait to die, to join Connor.

  "You're not asking me, sweetheart,” Aaron said. “I'm offering. I don't want to leave you alone here without ... Connor.” His voice wavered around his best friend's name, and Sara was reminded that she was not the only one who was sad Connor was gone. “I can help you make any arrangements, talk to the police, make any phone calls you need.

  Phone calls. Oh God. She would have to call Connor's parents. She couldn't do it. She lowered her head between her knees, overcome with the enormity of the horrific tasks ahead of her. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “Please. I'd appreciate that."

  He leaned forward on the edge of the bed and kissed her forehead. “No problem."

  Aaron stayed with her for the next few weeks. True to his word, he took care of almost everything for her. Gradually the fog of grief began to lift, and Sara experienced pangs of guilt that she was essentially taking advantage of his good nature, keeping him here so she didn't have to leave and face the ugly truth of her life without Connor.

  He made sure she ate and went outside. At night, when the grief seeped into her dreams in the form of nightmares, she would wake up screaming, and he would come in from the room next door and comfort her.

  When he would bring up the prospect of returning with him to his house in Boston or at least help her find a new home of her own, she would change the subject. It was getting harder though because Sara knew he had to go back to his life, and she had to decide where her future was headed now. The next time he brought the subject up, they were eating lunch outside on the patio overlooking the water.

  "Okay,” she said softly, looking down at her plate.

  Aaron choked a bit on his beer, surprised by her reply.

  She nodded. “Just for a little while. Just until I can find a job or something and a place of my own. I can't keep hiding here anymore."

  Aaron gave her a small smile. “Good girl. We'll leave tomorrow."

  * * * *

  Sara was packing up her things as Aaron was in his room doing the same when there was a knock on her door. She thought perhaps Aaron had finished and was completely unprepared for the sight that greeted her when she pulled opened the door. An impeccably dressed man and woman stormed into the room. Roger and Victoria Hawthorne stared at their daughter.

  Sara stared up at her parents not sure she was seeing straight. “Mom? Dad?"

  "You're coming home with us, Sara. There will be no argument. Do you understand?” Victoria Hawthorne's voice chilled the room.

  It suddenly occurred to Sara that there would be no peace for her. There would be no leaving with Aaron to try to pick up the pieces of her shattered life. She hadn't paid for Connor's death. How stupid had she been to think she could just move ahead? Sara stared at her mother's stern yet flawless face and burst out laughing, a hollow laugh, devoid of any real humor even though she did find the situation kind of funny. They both stared at her. Sara figured they must think she'd finally cracked. Maybe she had.

  Aaron appeared in the doorway and took one look at her parents and rushed to Sara's side.

  "What are you doing here?” he demanded, stepping between Sara and her parents.

  He didn't understand like she did. “Oh, Aaron, don't you see?” she asked the bewildered man. “I've come full circle. I ran away from them, and now back I go."

  "Sara, you don't have to go with them,” Aaron said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  "Yeah, I do. It's poetic justice if you think about it. No matter what you say, it is my fault Connor's gone. What more fitting punishment than to go back to hell?"

  "Really, Sara,” Victoria scolded. Her blue eyes stared down at her in frank disapproval.

  Sara forced herself to stand up and walk out of the bathroom.

  "Sara, don't do this. Connor wouldn't want you to go back with these people."

  "Don't ever do that again, Aaron. Don't tell me what my husband would've wanted. He's not here."

  "Sara, come on. You don't want to go back with them."

  "No,” she said, her lower lip quivering as her eyes filled with tears. “But it's no more than I deserve. This is just proof of that. Why else would they be here than to remind me that I can't just escape what I've done."

  "You haven't done anything,” Aaron told her.

  "If it wasn't for me, Connor would still be alive. That's just fact. I have to pay for that. This is my punishment."

  He shook his head, but Sara remained firm, and he sighed. He placed his other hand on her opposite shoulder and stared into her eyes. “If you need anything, day or night, you call me. Promise?” Aaron pressed.

  "Haven't you learned anything, Aaron? Promises don't mean shit. They're just words.” Sara turned to her parents. “Just give me a few minutes."

  * * * *

  Sara slipped off Connor's jacket, and it was the first thing she put in her suitcase. After she removed all traces of the happiest weeks of her life, she went downstairs to leave with her parents.

  * * * *

  Finally back in Florida, Victoria sat next to Sara in the car and stroked Sara's dark hair in an out of character maternal gesture that made Sara's stomach turn. “Once we get home, we can put all this unpleasantness behind us."

  Sara gave her mother a bitter smile. “And which unpleasantness would that be, Mother, the fact that my husband was blown to pieces or the fact that I married him in
the first place?"

  "No need to be crude, Sara,” her mother scolded.

  "Of course not. That wouldn't do at all, would it?” Sara mocked her mother.

  Her father pulled the Jaguar to the black iron gates protecting Hawthorne Manor. He punched in the code, and the gates swung open.

  Like the mouth of hell threatening to swallow her up. No less than I deserve. She forced herself to step out of the car and walk across the lawn to the sprawling two-story mansion made of cream-colored brick, topped with dark and light grey bricks. Two chimneys protruded on either side of the center roof. She swallowed hard, walking through the black wood doors. The butler, Royce, greeted them, and his dark eyes rested on Sara with sympathy. At least most of the staff had always been good to her.

  When Sara was led into the living room, Steven Sondheim was waiting for them, glass of brandy in hand. Sara gasped in shock. This was the son-of-a-bitch banker's son her parents wanted her to marry. The world spun around her as the enormity of what her parents expected from her slammed into her. For the first time in her twenty years, Sara fainted.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  When Sara came to, all she saw was white. White walls, white doors, and a man in a white lab coat who she assumed was a doctor.

  "Welcome back, Ms. Hawthorne.” He gave her a kind smile.

  Sara groaned. A sharp throbbing pain felt like it was splitting her skull. “Nolan."

  "I'm sorry?” the doctor asked.

  It hurt too much to correct him again, so she didn't bother. She just touched her head and grimaced.

  "You whacked your head pretty soundly on the edge of the coffee table when you fainted. You have a bit of a concussion but nothing serious. Your baby wasn't harmed. No need to worry. You'll able to le—"

  "Wait! Go back. My what?” Sara cried which made her head scream in protest. “What did you just say?"

  "Calm down now, Ms. Hawthorne. We don't want to get too excited. You didn't know you were pregnant?"

  "Nolan,” she repeated but softer. “Oh God.” She felt her eyes fill with tears when she stared down at her stomach. Her hand rested on it. A life. Oh dear God why? Why now when you've taken away its father?

  "Your parents are here with your fiancé to take you home. Just sign out when you're ready. I'll refer you to an obstetrician. Make an appointment to see Dr Holbrook at the desk when you sign out."

  "He's not my fiancé,” Sara corrected through clenched teeth. He nodded at her then turned and left.

  Sara had all of two seconds alone before her parents and Steven barged in.

  "Darling, we'll take you home now, and we can begin the arrangements.” Victoria rushed toward her

  "For?” she asked with a yawn.

  "Why, your wedding, of course. You're very lucky that Steven is willing to overlook your little rebellion and continue on with the wedding like we should've done in the beginning."

  Sara stared at Steven. He took her hand and smiled at her. She groaned. God, how she hated that stupid, superior smile.

  "I love Sara. I'd forgive her anything,” Steven assured them, stroking her hair.

  She jerked her head away, annoyed. “Even the fact that I have my husband's child growing inside me as we speak?"

  His eyes darkened, and a pin drop could've been heard in the silence that now filled the room.

  Victoria's black leather gloved hand flew to her mouth. “Oh dear."

  "Well, the child is a Hawthorne—” Roger began after clearing his throat, his voice hard.

  "Half! The other half is a Nolan,” Sara snapped.

  "That's not the child's fault. We certainly won't hold it against the poor thing, will we, Roger?” Victoria asked.

  "Of course not,” Roger said through clenched teeth. “Your child will have all the same advantages you had as a Hawthorne."

  "Poor kid,” Sara mumbled.

  "But we do have one condition. Your wedding to Steven must continue as planned,” Roger informed her.

  "Or?” Sara asked in disbelief.

  "Or both you and the little bastard will be disowned. Cut off. Not one penny,” Roger vowed, his blue eyes like ice.

  Sara stared at the man who called himself her father. She knew he meant it. “It's only been a little over a month since Connor's death. I can't just—"

  "You'll divorce him. That should speed up the process of your remarrying, and I'll have some friends in the system who can help move things along. We'll just call it a long engagement. You'll remain here at the house, and until that son of a bitch is finally declared dead you will conduct yourself as Steven's fiancée in practice if not yet by law."

  "You think I need your money that badly?"

  "You're penniless, my dear. In your haste to get married to that garbage, neither one of you thought about getting your affairs in order,” Roger said. “Think of your child, Sara. What kind of life could you provide without our help?"

  This is hell. She began to tremble. This is my punishment. God is punishing me because I killed Connor. Any thought of fighting left her. Her child would grow up with the best of everything. She'd make sure it was loved, at least by its mother. There will never be anyone else for me. Why punish my child by having him grow up fatherless and poor? Sara closed her eyes and accepted her punishment. “I'll do it,” she said more to her unborn child than to the people in the room.

  * * * *

  A memorial service was held for Connor. Sara barely made it out of there in one piece. She was a broken woman who felt as if she was living for nothing but the child inside her. Connor's parents were ecstatic that this piece of their son lived on. They invited Sara to come live with them, but she politely refused. Connor's little brother Sean stuck to Sara throughout most of the service, his head on her shoulder. Sara shouldered his grief the best she could. It hurt too much to promise to spend more time with the thirteen-year-old boy. It was like looking at a younger version of Connor.

  Sara kept silent about her agreement to marry Steven at first. She knew Aaron and the rest of Connor's friends would try to talk her out of it, but she needed to go through with it. It was her punishment, and she would endure it.

  They at least waited to make any sort of announcement about her renewed engagement to Steven until well after Sara went into labor seven months later and gave birth to a baby boy. She wished Connor could have been there with her, but she was alone in the delivery room. Just her and the doctors as Steven had no interest, and Victoria would never be present at such an unpleasant process. Sara was glad for that in a way. It was just her and her baby. Though she had insisted Aaron and their friends be allowed to visit as soon as possible.

  Her parents balked against it, but Sara remained firm. She stared down at the tiny bundle that was her son, and great bursting sobs of joy exploded from her body. She watched tears form in Aaron's eyes when he first came in and saw her son. A fine sprinkle of blond hair covered the baby's head, and every once in a while his eyes would struggle open to reveal his father's same intense blue gaze. “Nathaniel Nolan,” Sara announced.

  Aaron wrinkled his nose. “Are you sure? Everyone's gonna call him Nate."

  She burst out laughing through her tears and took Aaron's hand “I'm so glad you're here."

  Jane, Connor's mother, came in next with the rest of their group of friends, and Sara let her hold the baby in her arms, tears coursing down her cheeks.” He looks so much like ... like..."

  "Charlie Brown?” Marty asked over Jane's shoulder. Everyone in the room burst out laughing. “So, can I watch you breast feed the kid?” he asked, grinning at Sara.

  "Get out of here, you horndog!” Aaron said pushing him out of the room.

  The wedding planner arrived with the mock ups of invitations to choose from a few months later. Her parents had gone out to lunch with the Supreme Court judge. Sara was glad for the time alone. “There's been some kind of mistake. It's supposed to say Sara Hawthorne Nolan,” she pointed out.

&
nbsp; "I'm sorry this was the name Mrs. Hawthorne gave me. Of course, we will fix that right away. Is everything else to your liking?” the petite Asian woman asked.

  Sara nodded, though she couldn't care less.

  * * * *

  "Sara!” Her mother's shrill voice carried up the elegant staircase to Sara's bedroom.

  She rolled her eyes already knowing what her mother was mad about. She had spent the last few hours napping, but her sleep was troubled by dreams of her dead husband. Again, she dreamed of drowning and the hand extended to her. The face was elusive. “Yes, Mommy,” Sara said sarcastically, walking down the stairs, running her hand down the polished black banister.

  "Exactly what are you trying to accomplish with your little stunt? Changing the wedding invitations when they were perfectly suitable just they way they were."

  Sara noticed a big white box sitting on the white plush couch. “They didn't have my name right. It's Hawthorne-Nolan. Not just Hawthorne. I won't let people think I'm ashamed of being married before."

  "Oh for heaven's sake, why must you make everything so difficult? You always were a stubborn, willful child, but that boy just made it worse."

  "That boy? My husband was an adult. Thank you,” Sara snapped, smoothing down the edges of her red and blue plaid strapless top. She turned toward the box. “What's this?"

  "Your wedding gown,” Victoria said forgetting her anger and smiling, excited.

  Sara stepped away from it in reflex.

  "Well, go on. We need to see if it fits."

  "You've planned it all, haven't you?” Sara asked, shaking as she stared down at the box. She lifted the lid and pulled away the protective paper. She lifted the bodice in shock. “I can't wear this!"

  "God help me. What now?” Victoria rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  "Mother, it's white! I can't wear a white wedding dress,” she pointed out to the dense woman.

  "For goodness sake, why not?"

  "Why not? Mother, my husband just died! My husband. Is this not penetrating? I've been married before. I can't wear a white dress.” After a year, it was gradually getting easier to talk about Connor's death without feeling the hot knife of pain through her heart that his loss caused. It was encouraging really, this numbness that sometimes came over her.

 

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