by E. Jamie
Sara sighed and tried to get up without waking Aaron. She quietly walked out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Maybe if she focused on breakfast, she could block everything else from her mind.
A knock on the door surprised her. Jessica was keeping Nathan with her today so Sara and Aaron could spend the day alone together. She looked down at her watch. Eleven a.m. Well okay, they had slept in late, Sara remembered with a small smile. The smile disappeared. Who would be coming by today? All her friends knew that she and Aaron had gotten married yesterday. Why would they come by the day after?
It wasn't a friendly face but her mother's that greeted her when she opened the front door. Sara moved to close the door in her face, but Victoria pushed it open and let herself in.
"Your father's had a heart attack. He'd like to see you. It doesn't look good,” Victoria said with no more emotion than if she were describing a country club lunch. She clutched her black handbag against her burgundy coat and looked around the kitchen. Sara could just imagine how she was finding it lacking against the luxury of Hawthorne Manor ... not that her mother had set foot in the kitchen there often, Sara added with a mental snort.
She fought the urge to throw the woman out. She was, after all, her mother still, and her father was ill. Even if she tried, Sara couldn't steel her heart against that. “Fine. Aaron and I will fly out tomorrow."
"Where are Aaron and I flying to?” Aaron asked coming down the stairs pulling on a black T-shirt to match his black sweat pants. His face hardened when he saw Victoria.
"I understand congratulations are in order.” Victoria extended her hand toward Aaron.
He cocked an eyebrow at the faked sentiment and ignored her gesture.
"My father's had a heart attack. He needs to see me,” Sara explained.
"Fine. Is there anything else?” Aaron asked Victoria.
"Sara, I don't think I need to tell you the humiliation you caused Steven by leaving him at the altar that way. It was beyond undignified.” Victoria huffed and fiddled with the strand of small gold pearls at her neck.
"I'm sure Sodomy's gotten over it by now,” Aaron said.
"I'm happy, Mother. I wouldn't have been happy with Sodo"—Sara caught herself, and Aaron snorted behind her—"I mean, Steven doesn't make me happy. Doesn't that matter to you?” Her mother really didn't know her at all. She'd always known that, but it always pained Sara to be reminded of it.
"You never gave it a decent chance. Of course I doubt you intended to marry the poor boy at all."
Sara sighed, not even bothering to explain herself anymore. “I'll see you tomorrow,” she told her mother opening the door for the woman to leave.
Victoria looked from Sara to Aaron and then shook her head before she walked out the door.
Sara closed the door, and the air instantly went back to feeling good and warm around her instead of thick with anger.
As if sensing she needed it, Aaron wrapped his arms around her. It doesn't matter if she went back to that cold, unfeeling house. She knew this was home.
* * * *
Sara's stomach lurched with unease when they approached Hawthorne Manor.
Aaron saw the anxiety on her face and reached for her hand with his free one. “We can leave anytime you give the word, okay?"
"I know. I just hate that I keep getting dragged back here,” she said, seething with frustration.
Aaron drove up to the gate and pressed the intercom button.
A stiff static voice replied, “Hello?"
Aaron rolled his eyes, then shot Sara a smile. “Pizza."
"Pardon me?” the man asked with obvious disgust.
Sara smiled at her husband. “It's me, James."
"Very good then,” James replied with annoyance, and the gate swung open.
Victoria was waiting for them in the hallway. “Good of you to come, darling."
She reached to kiss Sara's cheek, but she stepped back, rolling her eyes. “Really, mother. Who are you trying to kid? You know full well that I'm just here because of the man who fathered me, not because I want a family reunion. Is he upstairs?"
Victoria nodded.
Sara turned to Aaron.
"I'll wait down here,” he said. “Unless you want me up there with you?"
"No, you can take off and come get me in a little while if you want."
"I'll stay."
She smiled at him in relief. She turned toward the stairs and, swallowing a lump of dread, forced herself to climb.
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Chapter Eight
He looked so frail. So unlike the domineering, intimidating man Sara grew up with. She watched Roger's chest rise and fall with rapid short breaths.
His eyes opened. “It's a good thing you're here,” Roger said, his voice soft but firm. “I wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. Your mother told me you're married."
Sara lifted her chin defiantly. “Yes,” she said. “And he's not rich. He's not a stuffed-shirt, spoiled, prep-school, silver-spoon-fed brat, and I love him."
Roger gave her a weak smile. “You hate me, don't you?” he asked. “You're so like me it must drive you bonkers."
"I'm nothing like you,” Sara snapped.
"Please, Sara. When you are staring death in the face, you see things so much more clearly. You have the same fire in your eyes I did, the same determination to get what you want no matter what the cost."
"I'm not like—"
He put up a hand. “You wanted Nolan, and you didn't give a damn what your mother and I said. I recognized that fire. Do you have any idea what you cost us by marrying that man?"
"Do you think I cared?” Sara countered.
He gave her a small smile. “I rest my case,” he said. “Now to the reason I asked you here. I knew that you would not give up Nolan on your own so I took him from you."
Sara's heart stopped, and she stared at her father. “What?"
"The explosion in Ireland. I orchestrated it. It is my fault your husband is dead."
Sara's eyes widened. “What? No. How could—” She backed away from him.
"I had an agreement with Sondheim Industries. If you married Steven, I would become partner in all their businesses. Banks, hotels, all of it. Steven's father had some, let's say less than upstanding, friends who wanted a clean place to launder their money so I agreed to make him partner in my businesses. Steven wanted you. That was the bargaining chip I used, only I didn't count on Nolan moving in on my daughter."
Sara covered her mouth with her hand in horror at what she was hearing. Tears of rage streamed down her face. “So you had him killed."
"It was Sondheim Senior's idea, but yes, I put it into action."
Sara fell against the wall with a sob.
"Are you happy?” Roger asked her out of the blue.
"What?” Sara asked. Her vision was blurred by her tears so that her father looked distorted, monstrous.
"Now. Are you happy with the life you have now?"
Sara struggled to compose herself and walked toward the bed, towering over Roger. Her fists were clenched so tight that her nails dug into her skin. The pain oriented her, kept her anchored in the chaotic whirlwind that had been the last few minutes. “I give thanks to God that I'm free of this house and that my little boy will never be poisoned by you or my mother. Aaron's parents and Connor's parents are the only grandparents he will ever need."
"Good. Stay away from here. Build a life for you and the child. Be happy because I will burn in hell for what I've done. I know it."
"Are you trying to say you're sorry?” Sara asked, confused.
"I am. I wanted you here so that I could tell you what I had done and ask your forgiveness."
Sara stared at him in shock. She didn't think she could despise anyone as much as she despised her father right then. “No. What you did was unforgivable. How dare you! How dare you even assume that because you fathered me you could ask for forgiveness for something so despicable? My child...” A
sob caught in her throat, and she forced it down. “Because of you, my child will never know his real father. No, you fucking bastard. May you rot in hell, without any forgiveness at all like you deserve. No."
"I knew what your answer would be, but I'm a gambling man, Sara. I had to try. You see things differently when you're dying. I know now what a mistake I made, and I don't just mean with Nolan. I mean with you. Though if I'm being completely honest now, you were the one mistake I never regretted even if I did wish you had been a son. I looked into your eyes the day you were born, and I saw myself in your eyes, and good Lord, did that terrify me. After that, I kept myself far away from you, which is odd considering I took you from your mother."
Sara straightened, backing into the mahogany wall unit. “What are you talking about?"
"Victoria is not your mother."
"What? What do you mean?” Sara asked. Her knees buckled, and she held onto one of the wooden panels. Good God, I can't take much more of this.
"Twenty-one years ago, I had an affair. Your mother was a whore,” Roger informed her. “I mean that literally. She was a prostitute."
Sara fell into the armchair beside the door in disbelief. Her head was spinning. Part of her was screaming at her to run out of this house now and never look back, but curiosity, maybe masochism, made her stay put. She needed to hear it all. “Where is she?"
Roger shrugged. “I paid her off for you. Regardless of how you were conceived, you were mine."
"Like your Rolls Royce,” Sara sneered at him. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. “She just took your money and handed me over?"
"In all fairness, the girl needed the money. It was either take my money or spend the rest of her life spreading her legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry."
"Oh that makes me feel a lot better,” Sara said, rolling her eyes. “Have you ever seen her again?"
"No. All I know is she took the money, and that's the last contact I had with her."
Sara rubbed her aching forehead. “I'm leaving this house, and I swear to God the three of you can burn in hell for all I care,” she said turning to leave, then stopped wiping her cheeks. She turned around, knowing it wouldn't mean anything, but she just needed to know. “What's her name?"
"Sara,” he replied with an ironic smile. “That's what she called herself anyway."
Sara gave a bitter laugh, then slammed the door behind her. She pushed past her mother when she reached the bottom of the staircase. She grabbed Aaron's hand and rushed toward the door.
"Sara!” Victoria called out. Sara stopped and turned around. “I assume your father told you everything."
"I won't be here for the funeral, and if God is kind, I'll never set eyes on any of you again."
* * * *
Jessica rushed toward them as soon as Sara and Aaron walked back into the house. “A rep from Valentino left you a message!” she said, her brown eyes dancing with excitement.
Sara stared at her in disbelief. “Are you serious?"
"I had just finished giving Nathan his bath when I came down and noticed the light was blinking on the machine. I know you were hoping someone would call for your designs. Well they did! Worthington's department store downtown wants twenty-five of the satin dresses with the option to buy three other designs. That message must have come while I was upstairs getting you some more clothes, but once that one ended the phone rang, and it was some woman from Valentino saying they wanted to set up an appointment to meet with you!” Jessica said the last words in an excited rush.
"Oh my God,” Sara squealed.
"I told you, didn't I?” Jessica reminded her, dropping a kiss on Nathaniel's head before the little boy rushed to throw his arms around Sara.
* * * *
Two years later
The applause was deafening. Sara could barely see any of the crowd thanks to all of the spotlights that were lit above her while she walked with her models down the runway. The occasional flash blinded her as well, and she wondered how the models were able to walk at all. Her first fashion show. Hot damn! Her body hummed with excitement. They loved it. They loved her. Sara turned her head to where she remembered Aaron and the rest of her family were. Her real family, some related, some not, but she felt their love washing over just the same. Out of the corner of her eye, she could make out the top of Aaron's wavy hair at the side of the stage. Aaron was whistling and cheering. Maggie stood beside her, agreeing to help Sara out by modeling the centerpiece of the show, the wedding gown. Sara winked at her husband, and he blew her a kiss. Marty was holding Nathan in front of his legs, and both were jumping up and down in excitement.
She had done it. After four long years and countless long nights, Connara Designs was on its way to becoming a household name.
"Mommy you're famous!” Nathan squealed in excitement, running toward her through the melee backstage.
"Not yet, sweetie. Soon though, I hope,” Sara said, scooping him up.
"Like SpongeBob?"
Aaron laughed, coming up behind him.
"Well, that's lovely. I'm being compared to a huge yellow sponge with legs.” Sara rolled her eyes and kissed her son's forehead before turning to her husband and pulling Aaron in for a kiss.
"Hey! SpongeBob's the bomb, woman!” Aaron said with a laugh when they parted.
"Yeah, you would think so.” Sara laughed.
They drove home, and Sara's mind was racing, her energy over the night's events still high. “I'm exhausted, but I'm so giddy. I don't think I'll be able to sleep."
Aaron took her hand with his free one. “I'll see if I can do something about that when we get home."
She smiled, her body warming in anticipation.
A short while later, Aaron lifted a sleeping Nathan into his arms and eased out of the car.
He placed him in his bed, and Sara crouched down and kissed his cheek. His cheeks were puffy and pink with sleep. His long, light-tipped eyelashes framed intense blue eyes, eyes that searched and questioned everything around him, taking it all in. He was his father's son.
"Sleep well, my little man,” she whispered.
"'Kay Mmumm,” he replied before falling back under sleep's spell again.
She watched him for a few seconds. He was safe and happy. So was she. Sara turned and closed the door and went to Aaron.
* * * *
Nathan was going to have another sleepover at his Grandma Jessica's, and he could hardly contain himself. Sara listened to him list all the things Jessica promised they could do for the weekend he would stay with them. Bless the woman. Sara listened to Nathan go on about the horses at Jessica and Jimmy's ranch. Sara thought she could pay back Aaron for the long nights she had worked by spending a romantic weekend together, just the two of them. Jessica obliged.
After dropping Nathan off, Sara drove home to take a long bath and prepare herself for a romantic evening with her husband. She pulled the car into the garage and turned the ignition off. Slamming the car door shut, she heard some boxes propped against the back wall fall over. Turning around, startled, she placed a hand to her heart. Must've slammed the door too hard, she thought. Aaron was always scolding her about that.
She walked toward the open garage door but stopped when she heard another noise, like someone taking a deep breath. The hair on the back of her neck stood, and she called out. “Aaron?” No, he wasn't supposed to be home yet. He'd gone out with Marty, Kevin, and Jason after putting in a full shift at the restaurant where he now worked as the assistant manager. He said he wouldn't be back until this evening.
Sara grabbed the nearest thing she could find which turned out to be Nathan's Nerf baseball bat. Not quite the deadliest of weapons, but it would have to do for now. “Who's there?” she demanded, her heart racing in panic and her mouth dry. “I swear to God if you don't get out of here right now, I'll bash your head in with this thing.” She heard a choked back laugh. Okay, so whoever it was could see her holding the neon orange sponge bat.
A figure stepped forward f
rom behind the old tools Aaron kept promising he would either repair or sell for parts.
Sara dropped the bat, and her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh dear God,” she whispered.
She stared at him in utter disbelief. His blue eyes never left hers as he walked closer. She swallowed hard, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart had stopped, and she trembled with a mixture of shock, relief, horror and every emotion under the sun. “Connor?” she asked, almost afraid to say the name out loud.
"Yeah."
She stepped forward, then back, then forward again. Her mind was screaming at her. He's a ghost. This is a dream. Oh, please don't let this be a dream. There was one way to know for sure. Sara raised her hand to touch his face. His skin was warm, rough from a small bit of stubble. Tears filled her eyes. “Are you real?” she whispered.
He closed his eyes and turned his cheek toward the open palm. His lips caressed her skin, and Sara gasped at the rush of sensation that exploded through her blood at the simple touch.
"I'm real, baby,” he whispered. “I'm alive."
A sob broke through Sara at his words. Her heart felt like it was going to burst through her chest. Her mind refused to accept it. He couldn't be alive. God had taken him from her. She traced along his face, trying to prove to herself that he was standing before her. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she moved her hands down to his shoulders and along his chest stopping just above his heart. She lifted her eyes to his, and she couldn't yet believe he was actually there.
He took her head and lowered it so that her ear was pressed against his heart. There it was, the undeniable proof he was genuinely alive and not some ghost or some figment of her imagination. His heartbeat, strong and fast, against her ear.