by Peggy Webb
"I don't like to say 'I told you so,' but I told you so."
"You're a wise man, Bert, and a good friend."
"Where to?"
"Home."
o0o
Jane held her peace for ten minutes after Sarah got back in the car, which was a record for her. Finally she could stand the suspense no longer.
"Who was that gorgeous hunk chasing you in a helicopter?"
"Jake Townsend."
"That's all you're going to tell me . . . just his name?"
Just saying his name made Sarah ache. Talking about him would rip her into tiny pieces. And yet Jane had left her home and husband to take Sarah away on a whim. She deserved an explanation.
"I made the mistake of falling in love. Jane."
"What's so terrible about that?"
"He deserves more." Even as she said it. Sarah wondered if she were cheating herself as well as Jake.
Chapter Eleven
Soon after they left Jake, Jane and Sarah stopped for a picnic lunch on the side of the road. Jenny, finally awake in the backseat, was clamoring for food.
"There's no need to hurry now," Sarah said as she and Jane laid out the picnic on a quilt spread on a grassy knoll beside a small stream. "The problems I was running from have finally caught up with me."
"Your problems didn't catch up with you, Sarah. You never left them behind. They were there inside you all along." Jane peeled the brown crusts off her bread and tossed them out for the birds. "Believe me. I'm the world's greatest expert on trying to outdistance problems."
"Me ungry," Jenny said, making a sad face to go with her complaint.
Sarah handed Jenny a sandwich and a small plastic cup of milk, then turned back to her friend.
"What am I going to do, Jane?"
Jane chewed her sandwich awhile before answering. She was often flip and even scatterbrained, but when a real problem arose, she was equal to the task. Sarah knew all that about her friend and waited patiently for her answer.
"I can't answer that. It's your life. Only you can find the right answer."
"I know that. Believe me, I do. But if it were you, what would you do?"
"Well ... for one thing I'd get so damned tired of being wise and brave and sensible all the time that every now and then I'd do whatever I pleased just because it felt good." Jane peeled another crust off her bread and tossed it over her shoulder. Then she gave Sarah a shrewd look. "What feels good to you, Sarah?"
"Jake," Sarah said without hesitation. Then she blushed to recall just how good he had felt.
"See. You've answered your own question."
"I wish it were that simple."
" 'ake?" Jenny tugged on Sarah's skirt. " 'ake?"
"Here, darling. You can feed him." Sarah poured a small plastic dish full of dog food and handed it to her daughter. Jenny pushed it away.
"No. Big 'ake!" She turned her hands palm up and shrugged her shoulders in the eloquent gesture Sarah knew so well. " 'ere?" She puckered her brows in a frown.
Sarah's throat felt tight. In sending Jake away, she had considered only one heart—her own. And now here was her daughter, puzzled and anxious and perhaps even suffering the pain of loss because somebody important to her was no longer a part of her life.
She scooped Jenny into her lap and hugged her close. Then she tried to explain their relationship to Jake in simple terms.
"Jake is at his house, Jenny. He lives in his house and we live in ours. You and I are a family, sweetheart. Jake is not a part of our family. He's a friend. You can’t always see your friends when you want to."
Jenny poked out her lips and punched Sarah's chest with one emphatic finger. Then she pointed to her own chest.
“That's right, Jenny. We are a family. Just the two of us."
Jenny pondered that awhile, then got off Sarah's lap and picked up her sketch pad and crayons. Knowing she loved to draw and could occupy herself for an hour at least, Sarah gave a sigh of relief. She hoped she had made Jenny understand.
"We've talked about nothing but my problems since you came to Florence, Jane. Tell me what's going on with you."
As the two old friends chatted Jenny's crayons scratched over the surface of her pad. She bent close to her work, occasionally frowning in concentration. All the skill she lacked in talking and walking and running was made up a hundredfold in her hands. They were gifted hands, swift and sure. Unlike other four-year-olds, who would do well to draw stick figures, Jenny drew people with recognizable faces. Art was her great compensatory talent, her gift from a gracious God who loved his special children best.
When she had finished her crayon drawing, Jenny presented it to Sarah. It was a picture of a house with a sagging front porch and Queen Anne's lace in the yard. In front of the house stood three people, holding hands—Sarah. Jenny, and Jake.
"Family," Jenny said, so clearly that Sarah was astonished. Then she punched her own chest. "Me love 'ake."
Sarah's hand shook as she studied the drawing. Summer memories tumbled through her mind— Jake riding the lawn mower while Jenny waved from the front porch; Jake eating gingerbread boys without heads and pretending that's the way he liked them; Jake singing Jenny to sleep and then carefully tucking her into bed; Jake sitting on the porch swing with Jenny at his side.
He hadn't had to speak his love; he had lived it. And she had been too blind to see. He said he wanted to love and protect and cherish her and Jenny, when, in fact, he had already done those things. All summer long he had been a part of their lives, steadfast and loyal and tender and protective. Totally unaware, she had already let him become a part of her family.
But she had been too stubborn to admit it. It took a special child to make her see the truth.
"Yes, Jenny. We are a family." She kissed her small daughter and held her close. Relief flooded through her, and feelings so exquisite, she thought she might fly into the sun and melt with happiness.
Jane stood up and began to pack the picnic supplies. "Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.
"Yes, Jane. Take us home, please."
o0o
Jake stood at his window looking out into the night. Two days since he had tracked Sarah in the helicopter, two days since he had held her in his arms and she had told him the reasons she couldn't love him, wouldn't marry him.
He glanced over his shoulder at the telephone. It sat on his desk in his study, as silent and brooding as he felt. He left the window and picked up the phone. The dial tone sounded forlorn and impersonal. Was Sarah home? Was she still on the road?
He punched the first digit of her phone number before banging the receiver back into its cradle. He had pushed enough. She needed time. Yes, that was it. Time. Hadn't time finally made him see the truth?
He poured himself a glass of port, then stood staring into its depths. How could he endure the waiting?
His doorbell rang. Startled, he glanced at his watch. Nine o'clock. Who would be ringing his doorbell at nine o'clock in the evening?
Setting the glass aside, he hurried to his front door. His footsteps echoed in his big lonely house.
"Yes?" he said, swinging the door open.
Sarah stood on his doorstep. She was wearing the peach dress that made her skin look like delicate china. Her eyes were bright and her mouth was turned up in a smile of such radiance, Jake thought he must have somehow fallen asleep and been dreaming.
"Sarah?" His love for her filled him up, clouded his thinking, paralyzed his limbs.
"May I come in?"
He held the door wide. When she walked through, her fragrance seemed to saturate the pores of his skin. He drew that part of her into himself, holding on to it like a man hoarding his wealth.
She knew the way through his house. Jake followed her, flipping on lights. When they were in the great hall where they had danced together over the marble floors, Sarah reached for his hand.
"I need you to hold on to."
"Now and always, Sarah." Hope was rebor
n in him, and his house was filled with the light of love.
With her free hand, Sarah fussed at her hair. Her eyes were as bright as the wings of a bluebird. She squeezed his hand and smiled once more.
"This is hard for me, Jake."
"How can I make it easy?"
"By holding on and not letting go."
Jake folded her in his embrace. She pressed her head against his chest, and he buried his face in her hair.
"Jenny is home with my friend. Jane Marks. We've known each other since before Jenny was born. We were neighbors in Birmingham."
Talking about Jenny seemed to relax her. Jake held on, gently caressing her back. With Sarah in his house, in his arms once more, he wanted the night to go on forever.
"I called Jane when I . . . needed to get away." Her face buried in his shirtfront, Sarah kept talking. "I thought I had my life planned, an orderly life with Jenny. She's so very dear to me, Jake."
"She's dear to me as well."
"I know that." Sarah looked at him. "After you left in the helicopter, I was still trying to justify sending you away, still trying to think of reasons why I was right." '
"And?" He smiled at her, daring to believe in a future.
"I was wrong . . . about everything. Over and over you have proved your love for me . . . and for Jenny. Heaven knows, you've had enough reason to walk away, but you kept coming back." She traced his eyebrows, his cheekbones, his lips, memorizing him with her fingertips. "I've come here tonight because I believe in your vision for the future."
Sarah's love lit the dark recesses of his soul, chasing away the last of the shadows that haunted him. With her, he was made whole. "The two of us, loving each other, will make it work, Sarah."
She backed away from him and caught his hand, smiling. "Have I ever told you I love you, Jake?"
"Never."
"Then I think it's high time to remedy that." She caught his face between her hands. "I love you, Jake Townsend."
"No woman has ever told me that."
"Truly?"
"Truly." His joy spilled over, and he laughed. "They've told me other things—what an expert at kissing I am and how well I dance and—"
"Shh." She put a finger over his lips. "From now on I’ll do all the telling."
"From now on, Sarah?"
"Yes. Starting right now until we grow so old, you can't hear what I'm saying and my voice quivers when I say it." She pressed her lips full against his for a moment, then pulled back, radiant. "Jenny is the one who made me see the truth, Jake. She drew the three of us together as a family."
"A very special family, Sarah." He studied her. "Are you absolutely certain? No doubts?"
"None. My heart said yes to you long ago. It just took my stubborn mind longer."
"If I ask you a certain question one more time, what will your answer be?"
"Yes, Jake." She wound her arms around his neck. "Oh, yes. I’ll marry you."
He swept her into his arms and started toward the staircase. With his foot on the bottom step, he gazed into her eyes.
"This is need, Sarah, and desire and a passion that always gets out of control with you. . . . But most of all, this is love." He brushed his lips against her hair, down the side of her cheek, and across her lips. "I love you, Sarah."
"And I love you, Jake. Now and forever." She wove her hands into his hair and pulled him closer. "Let me show you how much."
"If I could fly up these stairs, I would."
"I’ll be satisfied just to reach my destination."
The lighthearted playfulness he thought he had lost bubbled up in him. "And where would that be?"
"A certain bedroom of a certain dark-haired, green- eyed man who has no idea how very wonderful he is."
He captured her lips then, and held on to them all the way to his bedroom. When he crossed the threshold with her, he kicked the door shut.
"I hope Jane Is prepared to stay with Jenny a long, long time."
"She won't leave until I return."
"You think she can hold out a hundred years with that little bit of food in your refrigerator?"
"How do you know what's in my refrigerator?"
They laughed together, heady with the discovery that love could be spontaneous and fun.
"I know almost everything about you, Sarah Love."
He lowered her to the bed, then pinned her down with his hands on either side of her shoulders. Her hair was spread across his pillows, fair and bright. Her laughing lips tempted him. Her shining eyes teased him. Desire slammed him so suddenly and so hard, he almost lost his breath.
Seeing the change in his eyes, Sarah touched his cheek. "Jake?"
"The things I don't know, I'm planning to find out." He took her mouth in a slow and leisurely kiss. It was magic; it was miraculous; it was love.
"How long I've waited for this," he murmured.
"So have I."
He raised himself on his elbows. "I've dreamed of you here in this bed, your body next to mine, your lips . . ."He trailed his finger across her lips, gathering the sweet moisture on his fingertip. "So perfect." He traced her ears, her cheekbones, the contour of her jaw. "All of you ... so beautiful."
"Hmmm ..." She reached for him, whispering, "Love me, Jake."
"I plan to savor you." He began to unfasten the tiny pearl buttons on her dress. "The first time I saw you in this dress, I fell In love with you."
"When you stood beside that little table holding one yellow rose, I fell in love with you."
He eased the bodice over her shoulders. "Just the feel of your skirt brushing against my trouser leg was the most powerful aphrodisiac I've ever known."
"I wanted you to touch me."
"Like this?" He trailed his fingers across her throat and downward to the tops of her breasts.
"Yes," she whispered. "And like this." She traced a line from his chest to his groin.
Even with all his clothes on, Jake felt as If he were making love. He closed his eyes, savoring her touch.
"How have I ever lived without you, Sarah?" he asked, opening his eyes and gazing down at her.
"My world has been small without you, Jake . . . small and barren and without the greatest joy of all." She unhooked his belt and drew it from his pants. "The love between a man and a woman."
They undressed each other tenderly, marveling as if they had never seen the human body, exclaiming as if each part that came into view was a miracle. And when all their clothes lay on the floor, tangled together, with his pant legs wrapped around her skirt and her bodice trapping his shirt, Jake and Sarah came together at last, where they belonged, where they had always belonged.
Summer winds sang outside their window, and night birds serenaded the moon. Crickets and tree frogs and cicadas all joined the symphony.
Jake claimed his Sarah. He covered her, possessed her, and branded her his forever. And he learned one of the best-kept secrets of loving: That who you love is not nearly as important as who you are with the person you love. With Sarah he was a hero. She brought out every good quality he hadn't even known he had until she came along. With her, he was strong and brave and protective and tender and kind and passionate and true. With her he was reborn.
"Sarah ... my darling ... my love," he murmured, drowning himself in her exquisite body.
"Jake . . . my love . . . my hero," she whispered, welcoming him home.
o0o
The morning sun woke Sarah, its brightness pouring over her face, trying to get under her eyelids. She sat up, smiling and stretching, knowing she had slept late.
"Jake." she said, opening her eyes slowly. What she saw made her catch her breath. Violets were everywhere—spread across the bed, festooning the chairs, winking at her from the windowsills, nodding at her from the dressing table. She picked up a nosegay and pressed it against her cheeks.
"Good morning." Jake appeared in the doorway, carrying a tray filled with croissants and strawberries and cream in a silver cup.
"Is all
this for me?" she asked, swinging her arm wide.
"For you. I plan to fill your life with flowers."
"You make me feel like a princess."
"You make me feel like a king."
He set the tray on the bedside table and leaned down to kiss her. "Are you hungry this morning?"
"Hmmm." She caught the back of his neck and eased her hands upward, through his hair. "Very."
"So am I . . ."He pressed her back against the blanket of violets. "For you."
"Just what I've always wanted for breakfast," Sarah teased. "Strawberries and you."
o0o
Breakfast lasted until noon. Then Jake drove Sarah home and went to his office.
Gwendolyn looked up from her desk, a comment hot on her tongue. When she saw his face, she broke into a smile that wouldn't quit.
"Good morning, Gwendolyn." He passed her by, whistling.
"Good morning, indeed!" She looked at her watch, followed him into his office, poured herself a cup of coffee, and spread herself into her favorite chair.
"Where's mine?" Jake asked.
"From that smug look on your face, I take it you don't need coffee to wake you up."
"You know I like my coffee first thing in the morning." He grinned.
"First thing in the morning." She snorted in her most undignified, unladylike way, then fixed him with a baleful glare. "In case you haven't noticed, it's nearly one o'clock."
"High time to start planning a wedding, don't you think?"
Gwendolyn was speechless for all of ten seconds, then she made a valiant comeback. "I want to be the maid of honor."
"If you promise not to wear that bubble suit."
"I plan to deck myself with a ribbon and come as Cupid."
"I plan to deck myself with joy and come as the groom."
They looked at each other a long time, old friends who didn't need words to communicate. Gwendolyn came around the desk and hugged him.
"I'm so happy for you, Jake."
"I knew you would be."
She gave him a final squeeze, then sat back down and took up her steno pad. Jake watched her, smiling.
"Gwendolyn, do you think this company can survive if you take the next few days off to help Sarah get ready for the wedding?"