by Jean Stone
There was another moment where time stood achingly still before Andrew walked out the back door without putting on his jacket, wondering how long it would take for his knee to feel better and his brain to function again.
39
Sarah dressed slowly for dinner with Sutter. She chose a long, straight, pewter-colored wool dress that she had worn to Burch’s band concert in the fall, because he’d said that she looked pretty in it. She added a loose-fitting black leather belt and a black leather necklace with a silver pendant she’d created, an abstract of two eagles flying side by side, soaring in the wind.
She hadn’t known until today who it was she was thinking of when she first sketched the design. She’d only known it wasn’t symbolic of Jason and her. It was as if she’d always known their souls were never meant to be. Not for forever, anyway.
A time, a place, a purpose, she thought as she adjusted the necklace in the mirror and brushed her hair again.
Jo would urge her to beware that she was not just reacting to the rift with Jason, that she was not attracted to Sutter because she was on the rebound.
Elaine would not offer advice, because she was better at taking it than giving it.
Lily would applaud, because she believed man and woman should be together, no matter what, no matter who.
Sarah smiled into the mirror, knowing that, in part, each of her friends would always be right, because they had their own perspectives, their own truths. Still, she could not ignore the irony that all along she’d thought she’d be the one to lose Jason to another woman. It had not occurred to her that, instead, he might lose her to another man.
She slid into her coat, said good night to Elton, then started for the door just as the telephone rang.
She hesitated. What if it were Jason? What if it were Burch?
What if it were Sutter canceling their dinner plans?
It rang again.
She wanted to disregard it, to walk out the door as if she’d left five minutes earlier and had never heard the ring.
Maybe it was Laura Carrington.
She dropped her purse and picked up the receiver.
“We’ve got to help,” said the person, Lily, on the other end of the line.
Sarah glanced at her watch. She had ten minutes to get to the Hilltop Bed and Breakfast; on a good day, it took eight. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Well, it’s Andrew, of course. This is such a beastly mess. Andrew called Elaine and said Jo threw him out and Elaine called me and, oh, it’s hideous. He knows she knows about Irene. She—Jo—never dreamed he’d come back from New York. She must be very angry—”
“Lily,” Sarah interrupted, “just because we’ve been friends for years doesn’t mean we have to share every single aspect of our lives.” She was thinking more of Sutter and of Laura. She was wondering if she broke things off with Jason, where that would leave her with her son.
“Oh, pooh, Sarah, stop being so closed up. Stop being so…so you.”
Sarah wanted to think that Lily might not have meant that, but she knew differently. Of all the roommates, they were the two most extreme, the difference between a new moon and a full one.
“All right,” she responded with controlled irritation. “What shall we do?”
“We must go talk to Andrew. The three of us: me, you, Elaine. We have to convince him how nasty Irene was when she confronted Jo. Then he’ll know how to talk to her, what to say. If she’ll listen to him.”
“So we’ll go tomorrow.”
“No. We have to go tonight. Tomorrow Jo and I are taking Julie and Helen to check out reception venues. We have to do this tonight, or there simply won’t be time.”
Her friends were so important. But yet…
“I can’t,” she said.
“What on earth do you mean?”
“I mean I can’t, Lily. I can talk to him tomorrow, but I can’t tonight. I have dinner plans with the man who wants me to meet my mother.”
There was a short pause while Lily took a breath. “That Indian, Sutter Jones?”
Sarah smiled. “Yes, Lily. That Indian. I’m sorry. Really I am. But good luck to everyone.” She hung up quickly, before her allegiance to her friends usurped the new feelings that were in her heart.
Andrew had gone home and kept the lights turned off. He figured he might go down in history as the worst father in the world, but he wanted to leave Cassie at Mrs. Connor’s. Sometimes the hardest part about being a parent was trying to find some time to be alone, to get drunk if you wanted to, or to just sit there in the dark and cry as if you were a kid.
At least it didn’t take a rocket-freaking-scientist to examine Andrew’s life: He had no job—he’d for sure wrecked his chances of going back to Winston College once their most famous alumnus, John Benson, the man who’d finagled Andrew’s teaching post in the first place, learned that Andrew, too, had walked out on Irene.
So he had no job and he had no woman—Jo would never speak to him again. Why would she? The thought of her picturing him making love to Irene was as repulsive to him as it must be to Jo.
If he weren’t careful, he supposed he could lose Cassie the way Sarah had lost Burch: the second parent, a more alluring lifestyle. Hell, it had almost happened once.
He didn’t have a dog or a cat or a dead goldfish he could talk to. He didn’t even have any real friends left, because the two he’d always counted on had both lost their minds, one to Tahiti, the other to God-knew-what, maybe the guru in Dallas. She never had explained what that was about.
So Andrew sat there in the dark, too empty and depressed to worry about what he should do next, when a loud, insistent banging threatened to break down his door.
“Andrew Kennedy, open the goddamn door.” It was Lily, because it wouldn’t have been Jo.
He shuffled across the floor. “Okay,” he said. “The goddamn door is open.”
Lily pushed past him and marched into the cottage, snapping on lights as she made her way into the living room. Elaine followed more quietly behind, patting his shoulder, telling him that everything would be fine.
“Sit down,” Lily commanded, and so they did. “Look, Andrew,” she began. “I know this is absolutely, positively none of our business, but you must tell Elaine and me what happened between you and Irene. Is it the truth? That you were lovers? And, what’s more, are you still?”
Suddenly he knew that the tabloid headlines about Tahiti had come from the women, well, from Lily, anyway. He smiled at the way his world had become all-consumed by women. He smiled at the ways in which life had become more interesting because of it.
“This isn’t funny, Andrew,” Lily continued.
He shook his head. “I know,” he said. “I’m not laughing. Believe me.” Then he stood up and Lily sat and he paced around the small room, from the doors that led out to the garden to the stone fireplace he loved, all the while reciting the story of Andrew and Irene.
That he’d been seventeen.
That the Bensons had been separated.
That it had lasted just one week.
And then he realized that the secret he’d once thought he’d take to his grave had now been spilled out onto the braided rug for all to hear and know.
“Dear God,” Elaine said when Andrew finished and sat down across from them.
“She raped you,” Lily said. “She took advantage of a minor child and she broke the law.”
Andrew blinked. He’d never thought of that. He’d thought first that he was lucky, then later came the guilt. But he’d never thought Irene was at fault.
“She was the adult,” Lily continued, her anger tempered now by what sounded like sadness. Sorrow for the innocent child. Him.
“Lily,” he said, “I was a teenage boy. Do you know what teenage boys are like?”
“How noble of you to defend her, Andrew. But she sure has known what she’s been doing all these years. Hanging it over your unsuspecting head. Getting you to be the Bensons’ showpiece, the huge
ly successful man for whom they took all the credit. ‘He’s like a son to us,’ John said how many times? You made them look good, Andrew. But the truth is, you were the only one with a conscience. The only one who cared.”
It would take a while, Andrew knew, before the impact of Lily’s words would sink in. It might take days or weeks or months before he would acknowledge that she was right, though in his heart right now, he knew what she said made sense: Irene had used him from day one to satisfy her perverse, self-centered self.
He wondered if Jo would see it that way too.
40
I think I’m in love with you.”
It didn’t matter which of them had been the one to say it; the energy that radiated between their black and silver eyes had welded their hearts together.
“And I’m in love with you too.”
It was Sutter who spoke the second time, so Sarah must have been the first to say the words.
“It makes no sense,” she said. “We’ve only just met.”
“And yet we’ve known each other forever.”
“But—” she began, and he put his finger to her lips to shush her. “I know.” She smiled. “Rule of Acceptance.”
He looked so handsome tonight, in a white turtleneck that set off his dark hair and eyes.
They sat at a cozy corner table that Grace Koehler had set just for them, with burgundy flowered linens and deep wine-colored candles. Grace had made vegetarian lasagna and small crusty French breads. But neither Sarah nor Sutter was interested in eating much.
“I want to get my son back,” she said so softly, she had not realized it was on her mind.
“I’ll help you,” Sutter said.
They held hands across the table, their knees touched underneath. Sarah never wanted this night, this moment to end.
And then she said, “I want to meet my mother, Sutter.”
“I know,” he said, then added, “when?”
She felt his energy, his warmth, go from his hands to hers. “As soon as possible,” she said. “Before I lose my nerve, I guess.”
He smiled. “How about tonight?”
She blinked. “Tonight?”
“Laura came with me, Sarah. She’s upstairs waiting in her room.”
“Jo,” said Andrew, standing at her back door again, seeing her face to face but not having been invited in.
She folded her arms.
“Jo,” he said, “will you please let me explain?” He didn’t know if Lily was right, that what had happened with Irene was totally her fault. He only knew that it was long ago, and it was time to be done with the past.
“Lily called,” Jo said. “She told me I was fired if I didn’t hear your side of the story.”
Less than an hour earlier Andrew felt as if he had no friends, no life. He’d made the small mistake of looking in the wrong direction.
“Did she say anything about letting me into the house?” he asked. “It’s kind of cold out here.”
She hesitated—well, hell, who could blame her?—then she finally stepped aside and let him back into her life. This time, Andrew promised himself, promised Cassie, promised Jo, he would not screw things up.
41
This was the night she never thought would happen. This was the night she’d prayed for but had never really thought would happen.
Sutter had come up to her room; he had knocked softly; he had said that Sarah was downstairs, that she would like to come up.
Laura took a drink of water, put on fresh lipstick, straightened her hair, which was white now, no longer auburn. She added the silver hair clip, the one Sarah had made. Then she turned to the small table by the chintz-covered wing chairs in the corner. She was glad she’d brought the photo album. Sarah might like to see how much Laura had loved her father, and how much he had loved her.
She was too nervous to sit down, so Laura stood and waited.
This was the night she never thought would happen. This was the night she’d wished for on a thousand stars.
Sarah followed Sutter slowly up the winding stairs, each step a little steeper, each a little braver.
When they reached the top, Sutter stopped and turned to her. “I do love you, Sarah Duncan, Silent One,” he said. Then he kissed her on the cheek and brought her to the door marked number three, and he gently knocked.
“You’re beautiful,” Laura said.
“You said that to me once.”
“And I frightened you away.”
“I wasn’t ready to meet you then.”
“Nor I you, I suppose.”
“So it’s true. You are my mother.”
“So it’s true.”
“My son has your birthmark.”
Laura smiled. “My grandson,” she said.
Then Sarah heard a soft click of the door latch behind her and she knew that Sutter had left them to be alone.
EPILOGUE
Julie and Helen looked positively fabulous in matching ivory satin tuxedoes as theyand the ministersat in white velvet chairs.
The media was grateful for the impressive guest list: politicians from near and far, Republicans and Democrats. Sarah supposed if they had thought to ask, Julie would have told them that she was a Washington lobbyist for the disabled, had been for many years. Helen might have added that Julie was enormously respected, but that was apparent by the senators and representatives who showed up on Valentine’s Day.
“Who needs Irene Benson?” Lily said with a smile. “We’ll be booking second weddings for the Beltway people now.”
“Speaking of Irene,” Elaine said, “Andrew told me she and John are back together. It’s hard to know which of them is more of a masochist.”
“After all that nonsense,” Lily said, and Sarah agreed because no one knew nonsense better than their Lily, except maybe Rhonda Blair, who’d threatened to sue Second Chances, until Sutter intervened and said Rhonda had never signed a contract. Two days later they heard Rhonda had broken her engagement, that she was being consoled by a New Age guru in Dallas, the same one Irene had turned to in her short-lived grief.
“Dad just called,” Elaine said. “Things are going smoothly up on Southfield Mountain.”
They’d split the duties between the two weddings: Andrew and Jo had gone with the McNultys to tend to the nuptials of Allison and Dave. Lily, Elaine, and Sarah took care of things down on the ground, which was more convenient for Sarah, because as soon as this was over, she was leaving for New York.
So far, the plan was working. Every other weekend she brought Burch to stay with his fatherthe rest of the time Burch lived with her in the log cabin. She wasn’t sure whether or not he was thrilled about the arrangement (though Melissa had found an older, full-time boyfriend, thanks to Sarah’s prayers to Glisi, Sarah was certain). Burch agreed to do this until school was finished in June; he also agreed to try to accept Sutter. Sarah didn’t tell Burch about the note Jason had sent with the red dress; she’d read it the day after she met Laura.
Sarah, Jason had written, I know you know we’ve grown apart. I’ve tried to find my heart’s way back to you, but after all these years, I realize we are so different. I think we stayed together because of Burch. I think we stayed together because we always were apart.
She’d read the words and had felt oddly relieved.
Part of me will always love you. You have given me our wonderful son, and for that I will be forever grateful. But I think the time has come for both of us to go our separate ways.
He had been right, of course.
So now she and Burch spent every other weekend in New York. Burch stayed with his dad; Sarah stayed with Laura in the fourth-floor apartment on 82nd Street and Central Park West. Burch joined them for Saturday dinner or Sunday brunch, the small family linked by two diamond-shaped birthmarksand by time, and by place, and by purpose.
The weekends in between, Sutter traveled to the Berkshires. Sometimes he stayed for four days, sometimes five. Lately he’d been talking about the old town hal
l in West Hope, where Frank Forbes now had his antiques shop, and how the second floor would make a nice attorney’s office.
She decided not to try to talk him out of it. He was Standing Wolf; he would only bring peace.
Up on Southfield Mountain it was god-awful freezing. A light, snowy mist had coated Sarah’s cupids with heavenly glow and would look wonderful in the photographs in Allison and Dave’s wedding album.
Jo and Andrew ended up helping the McNultys serve hot chocolate with cinnamon and the heart-shaped, red-frosted cake that the bride had requested. It wouldn’t have been Jo’s choice, but she was learning that the best thing about planning weddings was listening to what the brides and grooms really wanted and providing it in the loveliest, most romantic way.
As the sun began to set and most folks scurried to the lifts to take them off the mountain, Andrew cornered Jo in the back of the makeshift kitchen under the big white tent. “It’s not so bad, is it,” he asked, “this wedding thing?”
“It’s not so bad,” she said. It had been a wonderful few weeks, making up with Andrew, finding their ground again, reinventing their new love.
He slipped his arm around her, pulled her to the corner of the tent. “I think I’ll try to get my job back at Winston College,” he said. “Stick around West Hope for a while.”
She smiled. “That’s wonderful. But you’ll be deserting Second Chances?”
“I’m a guy. I can handle two jobs if I’m needed.”
“Oh, believe me, Mr. Kennedy, you’re needed.”
They stood that way a moment, then Jo heard Cassie whisper, “Hurry up and ask her, Dad. I’m freezing.” Cassie was crouched on the other side of the tent wall, her ear pressed to the canvas.
Jo laughed and Andrew shrugged.
“She wants me to hurry up and ask you to marry me,” he said.