Sheridan's Fate

by Gun Brooke

  She clicked on resources, and a list of links to various Web pages appeared. Sheridan picked a link that led to another chat Web site, where she typed her username and password. She browsed the list of usernames and saw several she had struck up conversations with, even flirted with, but now, when she saw them playing the field, she wasn’t tempted at all. Sheridan waited, anxious at her strong feeling of apprehension. Finally she logged off and closed her laptop.

  Granted, this was the first time that she’d been back at the special chat forum since she became ill, but her reaction was still disconcerting. On more than one occasion, Sheridan had found relief and a moment’s relaxation and fun at this site. Membership was by invitation, and Sheridan missed the friends she’d made there, as well as the casual cyber sex. She had used it as a clever outlet for her emotions when her career seemed to weigh on her personal choices more than she could stand.

  It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had her fair share of lovers. They’d been anonymous trysts, usually in Austin, in the bachelor apartment she kept in the university neighborhood, far from any of the places her peers normally visited.

  Sheridan liked her little getaway a lot, but she loved the estate at Lake Travis. The hacienda-style house had been in the family for more than seventy years. Sheridan wasn’t a sailor; in fact, she wasn’t comfortable around water, which made it even more remarkable that she enjoyed the Lake Travis house so much. She liked to walk the four-mile private beach, usually accompanied by her Irish setter, Frank. Frank never came back to San Antonio with her. She knew the dog was happier by the lake so she left him there with the Johnsons, the married couple who took care of the estate for her. She hadn’t been there since her illness. She missed Frank, but it pained her to think she’d never walk with him along the beach again, never run and play with him like she used to. Better this way. Better not to confuse the dog by showing up in a wheelchair that would no doubt startle him.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes…eh…Lisa?” Damn, I hope that’s her name.

  “Karen.” Karen only grinned at Sheridan, apparently not offended in the least. “You told me to remind you when it’s 9 p.m. I’m sorry. I got carried away by the book I was reading.” She waved a paperback in the air. “It’s 9:30.”

  “Let’s go then. There shouldn’t be much traffic, though.”

  “Yeah, at this hour, for sure.”

  Sheridan rolled to the door and as she passed Karen, she stole a glance at the book. “What are you reading, by the way, that had you so engrossed?”

  “A self-help book.”

  “Self-help? About what?” Sheridan raised an eyebrow.

  Karen colored faintly. “The book’s called The Ten-Step Program to ’Fessing Up.”

  Sheridan was intrigued. “Confess what?”

  “Eh, to whatever you need confessing to…well, different people.” Karen was now crimson, and she fiddled with the well-thumbed book. “You know.”

  Sheridan found it immensely tempting to ask what in the world this otherwise-so-cheerful young woman would have to confess, but she resisted. It was obviously not any of her business. However, she felt she should say something, which in itself was mind-boggling. The old Sheridan wouldn’t have had the time or cared what any of her staff had to confess. “Just don’t force the issue,” Sheridan said, a bit awkwardly. “Confess to things in your own time.”

  Brightening, Karen’s expression softened and she smiled warmly at Sheridan. “Thanks, ma’am. I’ll take that into consideration.”

  “Good. Come on. It’s time to go home.”

  Karen laughed, a very pleasant sound, and Sheridan knew that she wouldn’t forget this employee’s name again.

  *

  The house was quiet and Sheridan rolled through the corridor after assuring Karen that she could manage on her own. Her suite was prepared just as she liked it. The lights were dim, her medication on the nightstand, and her bed turned down. Still the emptiness of the room got to her, and she completed her evening routine as fast as she could, wanting to go to bed and sleep away the loneliness.

  The mirror told of too many hours at the office, and Sheridan groaned at how grayish pale she looked. If Lark didn’t push me so hard in the gym, I wouldn’t look like I’m falling apart. Sheridan thought how she used to be able to pull all-nighters twice a week without a problem. Now it seemed as if she was barely able to stick to her physiotherapy routine and do her work at the same time. This situation was disconcerting, since this was why she’d hired Lark in the first place. She needed to be in shape for the stockholders’ convention, and her plan wasn’t working.

  It’s only been a few days. A small inner voice tried to reason with Sheridan that she was rushing things, but she pushed the annoying thoughts away. Results were what counted in her world, and quick results even more so. Sheridan had learned from her father that in the corporate world you planned for the future by wielding your sword today. You chopped off the pieces that didn’t fit, cultivated the pieces you wanted to keep, and ended up with a thriving empire.

  She wasn’t sure how this analogy fit in with her training program, but she was annoyed, and she knew if Lark had taken an approach more doable from a business point of view, she wouldn’t feel so lousy right now. Damn it! The only difference between Lark and the other useless health pros is that she’s cuter. Same idealistic, unrealistic approach—

  Sheridan stopped. She looked up at her reflection and put the washcloth down. Cute? She thought Lark was cute? Sure, Lark had a pretty face and the biggest, dreamy golden eyes Sheridan had ever seen, but cute?

  Sheridan put on a long T-shirt and grabbed her briefcase on her way to bed. One thing that Lark had shown her was how to maneuver from the chair onto the bed, and feeling slightly more good-humored toward her physical therapist, she practiced her new skills and scooted in under the covers. With a few more exhausting moves, she was finally able to pull the covers up. Sheridan flipped open her laptop, and as soon as she was online, a chat window appeared.

  Grey_bird: Hello! Good to see you online again.

  Sheridan stared at the screen, her stomach suddenly trembling.

  Sheri_star: Hi you. Been working overtime.

  Grey_bird: Ah. That sucks. Demanding boss?

  Sheri_star: The worst! How about you?

  Grinning, Sheridan began to relax.

  Grey_bird: Have one that’s quite challenging. She’ll end up giving me grey hair, or firing me.

  Sheri_star: Can’t you talk to her about what’s wrong?

  Grey_bird: I try. I may just reach her one of these days.

  Sheri_star: Well, I wouldn’t want you to work for my boss. She’s got to be worse.

  Grey_bird: Give me an example.

  Sheri_star: Hmm. Let me see. She can never keep track of any employee’s name.

  Grey_bird: Really? Well, perhaps she has too many employees.

  Sheridan read Grey_bird’s response with surprise. She had expected her chat counterpart to mock Sheri_star’s “employer” and come up with a few suggestions on how to deal with such a rude person.

  Sheri_star: It’s not like she deals with all of them personally. You’d think she’d be able to memorize just a few, at least.

  Grey_bird: True. How long have you worked for her?

  Sheri_star: Too long. Almost quit not long ago.

  There was a brief pause.

  Grey_bird: What stopped you?

  Sheri_star: I guess you can say I saw the light.

  Grey_bird paused again.

  Grey_bird: Sounds kinda good, Sheri_star.

  Sheri_star: It was. Actually.

  Grey_bird: And now? You back in the same situation?

  Sheri_star: Yes. And no. Some things changed.

  Grey_bird: Not your working hours!

  Sheri_star: *grin* For sure.

  Grey_bird: You tired?

  Sheri_star: Like you could never believe. But don’t leave. Great chatting with someone.

  Grey_bird: Glad
you think so. I was kinda waiting for you.

  Sheridan jerked her hands off the keyboard and reread the last sentence from Grey_bird.

  Sheri_star: Oh yeah?

  Grey_bird: Yes. I was bored and somehow felt connected to you the other day. Hoped you felt the same way.

  Sheri_star: In a strange way I did. You’re easy to chat with.

  And refreshingly friendly, not just after a fast cyber fuck. Sheridan felt a rather silly grin form on her lips and blushed at her own reaction.

  Grey_bird: Thank you. So are you. We just might become friends.

  Sheridan couldn’t make herself type at first. Her fingers suddenly trembled so badly, she almost feared she’d come down with yet another new symptom. Trying to control the tremors, she placed her fingers on the keyboard and saw text move on her screen.

  Grey_bird: Sheri_star? You still there?

  Sheri_star: Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. And yes. I would like to get to know you.

  Grey_bird: Whew! What a relief. For some reason I thought I might have offended you.

  Sheri_star: No way.

  Grey_bird: I think it’s time for me to go to bed. Stern boss expects me to pull miracles out of my hat tomorrow as usual.

  Sheri_star: Just stand your ground, Grey_bird.

  Grey_bird: Will do my best. You too, though. Don’t let that boss of yours get away with acting badly.

  Sheri_star: And how do you suppose I do that?

  Grey_bird: *smile* Lead by example!

  Sheridan burst out laughing. Grey_bird’s comment was funnier than she could possibly guess.

  Sheri_star: I’ll do just that. Night, night, Grey_bird.

  Grey_bird: Good night. Sleep tight.

  Sheridan logged off and placed the laptop on her nightstand. Karen had already put her medication next to her water bottle, and Sheridan swallowed it with an impatient grimace. She shifted impatiently until she finally tucked a small pillow between her knees and hugged another one against her chest. Thinking of Grey_bird, she wondered what her chat partner did for a living. For some reason, Grey_bird struck her as a genuinely warmhearted person. They had shared only a few words, and Sheridan still speculated about which ones of her cyber buddies had given her username to Grey_bird. But even considering that puzzle, Sheridan instinctively liked her. She could almost hear the soft voice and look into the velvety brown eyes—

  Sheridan stopped her train of thought. Why did she associate Lark’s features with a stranger’s persona? Sure, Lark was also very sweet, and her touch was the gentlest Sheridan had ever received. When she spoke, her voice caressed Sheridan and made her want to care for her, protect her.

  But I don’t know her any more than I know this Grey_bird person. Startled, Sheridan backtracked. She had just listed a lot of very positive, and highly personal, traits regarding Lark and concluded by expressing concern for her. As if Lark were some vulnerable young flower, in need of protection from…what? Her?

  Clenching her teeth, Sheridan willed her mind to empty itself. It was a technique she’d perfected after her mother died. If she didn’t think of anything, nothing hurt. It was as simple as that.

  Successful, and pleased, Sheridan felt sleep begin to overcome her. Annoyingly enough, a last conscious thought snuck in just before the dreams took over. Why did I stay late, despite my promise to Lark? What am I up to?

  *

  Next morning, Lark stood in the gym waiting for Sheridan. She checked her watch against the clock on the wall, and they both showed 9:30. Frowning and stewing, she tapped her foot as she browsed the CD rack on the wall. She worked a lot with music as she helped her patients heal. Research showed the undeniable success stories with this method, and Lark knew if she used music Sheridan liked, preferably up-tempo to help keep the pace moving during strenuous workouts, the exercise would impact her system much more.

  “I’m here.”

  No “sorry I’m late” or “did I keep you waiting.”

  “You’re late.” Up till now, Lark had been prepared to show Sheridan the benefit of the doubt, but the stubborn look on her face, tinged with condescension, made it impossible.

  “I was tired this morning.”

  “You stayed late at work even after you promised you’d prioritize your exercises. No wonder you’re tired. If you’d been home in time, you wouldn’t be.” Lark knew she sounded like a nagging mother, but she had to make sure Sheridan knew that she knew.

  “Honestly, Lark. I have no obligation to report my comings and goings to you. I employ you, not the other way around.”

  “True. But just keep in mind why you employ me. You’re wasting my time and your money by doing this.”

  “I don’t see how half an hour here or there can matter so much.” Sheridan folded her arms over her chest.

  Lark sighed and placed the CD she was holding on the table. She tempered her movements, quite an accomplishment when she really wanted to slam the innocent object onto the pile of CDs there. “That just proves my point. All those little moments add up to a lot of lost time that can make all the difference to our tight schedule. You want so much to happen in a few months. That makes every minute of treatment important.”

  “Well, we just have to speed the gym session up, then.” Sheridan waved a hand in the air, looking as if she already had her mind on today’s business. The fact that she had dark circles after a most likely tough night should have made Lark back off a bit, but it didn’t. Instead she thought of the chat last night, and how she’d thought she was finally starting to understand Sheridan and even hoped to get under her skin. Apparently not.

  Sheridan was one person when she fooled around on the Internet and a completely different person in real life. What would it take to reach her?

  “You can’t speed it up. It doesn’t work that way.” Lark tried to remain polite. “If you rush through the different exercises, you might damage yourself. Besides, they won’t have the desired effect.”

  With her gray eyes crystal clear, Sheridan blasted Lark with her gaze. “I thought I made it clear that I needed you to design the exercises to fit my schedule. If you can’t be realistic and work with me under these circumstances, your high recommendations are false advertising.”

  “What?” Lark’s normally calm nature boiled over. “Nothing can alter the fact that I’m one of the best in my field in San Antonio. I’m sure if you settled for someone easier to manipulate, you could find just such a person from an inferior agency. But let me tell you this, that person won’t help you be fit for the stockholders’ conference!”

  “That’s my choice.” Sheridan’s voice was cold now and her features rigid. “You are not making this easy for me, and you are not paying attention to my requirements.”

  “You hired me for my expertise, to help you be in the best possible shape before the fall.” Lark took a deep breath. “Sheridan, I want you to regain as much of your good health as possible and become independent of others. But I can’t work well under these circumstances. Your attitude is key, and frankly…your attitude sucks.”

  Sheridan rolled close to Lark, her lips white as she pressed them in a thin line before she spoke. “If that’s your opinion, why are you still here? Why would you want to work with me?”

  “Valid questions,” Lark agreed. “But this is what I do. Some of your reluctance is about fear, and I understand that. And part of it is simply the repercussions of the illness talking. It’s not unheard of that—”

  “Don’t you dare suggest that I don’t know what I’m saying!” Sheridan’s voice dropped an octave.

  “That’s not what I—”

  “It’s what you said. You just proved my point. You’re not right for this job if you insist that I’m brain damaged!”

  “I didn’t say that, but if you push the issue…well…you are brain damaged.” As Lark tried to reason with the furious, almost panic-stricken woman, she felt as if she’d stepped into a nest of burning fuses. “Listen, Sheridan,” she began and reached out. Shocked, she
felt Sheridan force her hand away.

  “No. I don’t have to listen to you.” Intense anger burned in Sheridan’s gray eyes. “That’s my prerogative as boss. You’re merely an employee and can be replaced. You’re fired!”

  Lark stared at Sheridan, afraid to blink even once since the movement might dislodge the tears that stung threateningly where they lay hidden. Not sure if they stemmed from fury or remorse, Lark stepped back, unsettled at the sight of a chalk-white Sheridan. “Wait just a damn minute here,” she said slowly. “I took this job because my agent practically begged. It’s been hard to find a PT that was ready to work with you. I came here prepared to do my best, to really help you the way you needed to be helped, rather than indulge your unreasonable ideas of a quick fix.”

  Sheridan gasped. “Well, that won’t be your problem any longer. From this moment you’re relieved of any duty in this household. I’ll have Mrs. D and Erica take care of everything.” Barely audible, Sheridan continued. “I had high hopes for our collaboration, Lark. Apparently I was wrong. Very disappointing.”

  “So did I.” The anger left as quickly as it came and Lark slumped back against the table. The edge cut into her hip, but she didn’t care about the pain. “I had high hopes as well.”

  Sheridan’s pale face was now blank and devoid of emotions. “Too bad then.”