Seeking Sara Summers

by Susan Gabriel

  “What is the point?”

  “Julia, don’t do this to me. Don’t make me choose between you or them. There’s too much history there.”

  Julia paused. “I guess it is unfair. But I want to make love to you.”

  Sara cautioned her to keep her voice down, looking again at the door. As if on cue, Grady entered.

  Sara pivoted toward the counter and gathered the dessert plates to take out to the dining room. Julia turned toward Grady.

  “How have you been, Grady?”

  Grady paused, looked at Julia, but didn’t answer. “The kids are waiting for pie,” Grady said to Sara. “Are you coming?”

  “Well, I guess I’ll be going,” Julia said, walking toward the door. “Tell everyone I said goodbye and that I loved meeting them,” she said to Sara. “And Grady, you haven’t changed a bit,” she added.

  The look that passed between them had a story in it. A story that neither had bothered to tell Sara.

  Julia left and Grady carried the stack of dessert plates and forks into the dining room. He said nothing to Sara before he left.

  Sara stayed in the kitchen for a few seconds to pull herself together. She considered briefly jumping into the Volvo and following Julia. But Sara knew that if she ran away this time it would be for good.

  Later that evening as Sara and Grady were getting ready for bed she experienced the full barrage of his silence. After Julia left he had been sullen for the rest of the evening even when the kids tried to joke him out of it.

  “Well, that was unexpected,” he said finally. “Julia just showing up out of the blue. Did you two plan this?”

  “I had no idea she was coming,” Sara said. And if I had known of her plans, I would have talked her out of it, was the part she didn’t say.

  “It’s just like Julia to steal the show,” he said.

  “She wasn’t trying to ‘steal the show,’” Sara said. “She was just being herself.”

  “Right,” Grady said sarcastically. He rolled over and turned off the light, as if Julia’s visit was a lump of coal Santa had delivered in his Christmas stocking.

  Sara lay in the dark processing the events of the last few hours. Julia was just a few blocks away. Sara traced the route in her mind. It would take her all of five minutes to get there. She could be in Julia’s arms right now, instead of staring the bulk of Grady’s back. She contemplated sneaking out. Grady wouldn’t miss her. He was used to her middle of the night roamings by now.

  Sara moved to the edge of the bed. Luke thumped his tail once as if to ask: Is it time to get up already? Sara stepped over him and quietly slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweater. She felt like a teenager sneaking out of the house to meet her beau. She grabbed her shoes and carried them through the dark house to the kitchen door. She took the Volvo keys from the hook and pushed on the door to unlatch it. It cracked loudly and Sara paused to see if Grady would appear with a baseball bat to fend off a potential burglar. Instead she heard only Luke’s toenails on the wood floors. He arrived in the kitchen, wagging his tail in the pale spillover of light from the streetlamp. He looked toward the closet where his leash was kept. Sara whispered for him to stay and he whimpered slightly.

  A rush of cold air hit Sara from all directions. She had forgotten her coat and New England was already frigid by the end of December. But she didn’t want to risk going back. She walked briskly to the Volvo and got inside. She was freezing. Her teeth began to chatter. Where are those hot flashes when you need them? she thought. She put the key in the ignition but something stopped her from starting the engine.

  “I can’t do this,” she said out loud. The words penetrated the cold like smoke signals. Then she tasted a warm, salty tear as it touched her lips.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Julia opened the door at the Bed and Breakfast wearing her red kimono. “It’s three o’clock. I expected you hours ago.”

  It was not the greeting Sara expected, but it was certainly, she quickly decided, the one she deserved. “Merry Christmas,” Sara said as she walked past Julia and closed the door.

  In Italy, Sara had followed Julia’s lead but this was her territory. Julia stood facing Sara, her arms on her hips, cleavage exposed. She hated Julia at that moment for looking beautiful and radiant, even in her anger. This was going to be hard, but she had a mission to complete. Having Julia in Northampton made her realize how crazy their time in Italy had been. If called into a courtroom to explain that time, she would plead temporary insanity.

  “What’s going on with you?” Julia asked, her hands remaining on her hips.

  “I’m glad you came,” Sara said. “It helped me get clear on some things.”

  “I’m glad I came, too,” Julia said. She lowered her arms and took a step closer. But Sara put her arm out like a crossing guard. “Okay, it’s obvious we’re not going to get anywhere until you say what’s on your mind,” Julia said. “So tell me, what did it help you get clear on?”

  “Us.”

  “Us?” Julia sat on the end of the bed.

  For the first time Sara noticed her surroundings. A tastefully decorated Bed & Breakfast, Victorian furnishings. As straight-laced and rigid as Sara felt. “This is nice,” she said.

  “It’s not Italy, but it will do.” Julia patted the bed to invite Sara to sit, but Sara remained standing. She was tired. Exhausted, really. She had missed another night’s sleep. Something she wasn’t good at even as a college student pulling all-nighters before exams. Her body ached to recline, rest, release. To counter this need, Sara stood straighter, calling on her posture to bolster her courage.

  “I have a gift for you,” Julia said. She went over to her suitcase and pulled out a small wrapped present.

  “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that,” Sara said. “I didn’t get you anything.”

  “It’s okay. I just saw it in an antique shop in Florence and had to get it for you.”

  Sara’s resolve weakened. She took the gift and unwrapped it slowly revealing a brown leather jewelry box. Sara hesitated before opening it. Inside, was a gold necklace of the Madonna and child.

  “It’s an heirloom piece,” Julia said.

  “It’s exquisite,” Sara said softly.

  “It reminds me of the fountain and of you,” Julia said.

  Sara touched the raised image.

  “Put it on,” Julia said.

  Sara let her take the necklace and fasten it around her neck.

  “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” Sara said. Then she forced herself to stand straighter. “But it doesn’t change what I have to say,” she added.

  Julia returned to sit on the bed. “By the way, when did you start wearing a wig?” Julia asked. “I liked your real hair, the way it was in Italy.”

  Sara reached up and straightened the hair piece that hid the results of her latest round of chemo. With all the excitement of Julia coming she had forgotten the state of her health.

  “It’s a long story,” Sara said. “One I can’t go into right now.”

  Get on with it, the critical voice began in her head. Do what you need to do. At that moment Sara was grateful for the critical voice. But there was another part of her, a softer, more vulnerable part, that didn’t have a voice. It was the part that was in love with Julia and the part that was willing to do anything to be with her.

  “I think I know what you’re getting ready to do,” Julia said. “And I don’t think it’s a very good idea.”

  “It’s for the best,” Sara said. “It was just a crazy time. I enjoyed it. But I can’t be with you anymore. That person in Italy wasn’t really me.”

  “And this person is?” Julia asked. What happened to needing more time?”

  Sara had to give Julia credit for staying calm. “There’s nothing to discuss about this,” Sara said. “I’ve made up my mind and I hope you can just accept it.”

  Her dialogue sounded like a scene from a bad movie, Sara being the actress delivering an unconvincing pe
rformance. Was this what she really wanted? Maybe not, but it was what had to be. There were too many consequences to loving Julia.

  “Goodbye Julia. I hope we can still be friends.” This sounded trite.

  “What is going on with you?” Julia asked. “You’re acting like you’ve been taken over by pod people or something.”

  “Don’t be funny, Julia.” Or beautiful, for that matter, she wanted to say. “This is hard enough.”

  “Sit down, Sweetie. Let’s talk about this.”

  But Sara couldn’t run the risk of sitting down. She might collapse in Julia’s arms. Julia stood. Sara took a step closer to the door.

  “I thought you loved me,” Julia said.

  “Of course I love you.” Sara weakened. “But this isn’t about love, Julia. I have responsibilities here.”

  At that moment, she couldn’t remember exactly what these responsibilities were, but she clung to the idea of them just at she literally clutched the medallion of the virgin mother around her neck.

  “So what you need doesn’t matter, right?” Julia asked.

  “Right,” Sara said. “Since when do I get what I want?”

  “When you decide that you deserve it,” Julia said.

  “Now isn’t the time to be wise,” Sara snapped.

  “So what would you prefer? Do you want me to throw things? Yell obscenities.” Julia sat back on the bed and crossed her legs.

  “Maybe,” Sara said. “I don’t understand how you can be so calm.”

  “I trust that if we’re meant to be together we will be.”

  Sara huffed her frustration. “I don’t have the energy for this,” she said. “Why can’t you just be angry and unreasonable? Then it would be much easier to walk away. Instead, you’re being all those things I love about you.”

  Julia smiled. “I love you, too.”

  Just leave, the voice began in her head. Get out before you do something crazy again. Sara placed her hand on the doorknob, but she couldn’t turn it. Her feet were mired to the floor, stuck between staying and leaving. “I don’t know what to do,” Sara said softly.

  “It’s okay,” Julia said. “We’ll figure it out.” She touched Sara’s shoulder and kissed the back of her neck.

  An exquisite, terrifying shudder ran down Sara’s body. She turned toward Julia and surrendered to the moment.

  The days were getting longer. Spring announced itself in bursts of pastel colors. The winter had proved longer and grayer than any Sara remembered. Her time with Julia at Christmas, four months before, now seemed imagined. Julia’s emails had increased. Sara’s had waned. Julia called Sara’s cell phone leaving erotic messages that Sara savored and then quickly erased for fear that someone might hear them. Often Sara did not pick up when Julia called. She oscillated between the new and the old; between the unknown and the known. She was too old to change her life now, wasn’t she?

  Sara and Grady finished dinner and Sara stacked the dishes next to the sink. “I forgot to tell you, Doctor Morgan called while you were out walking Luke,” Grady said. “He wants you to call him.”

  Sara’s six-month check-up after the second round of chemo had been the day before. He had said he would phone her with the results. She found Doctor Morgan’s business card in a stack of papers on the dining room table and sat on the steps in the hallway that separated the kitchen and dining room. She rarely took the stairs up to the second floor anymore, since only the kids bedrooms were up there. But now Grady was talking about renovating the rooms. Knocking down walls and creating a den. It would be their biggest project yet. In Sara’s view, this was a clear sign that they were in trouble.

  Sara traced the edges of Doctor Morgan’s card. Why had she been so intent about going through this alone? She wished now that she had told Julia. That’s what people who loved each other did, wasn’t it? Shared the good and the bad?

  Sara picked up the cordless phone to dial the number. Regardless of the results, something had to change. A year before she had come to a crossroads. She couldn’t afford to turn back this time. If the cancer didn’t kill her, her indecision would.

  “What are you doing?” Grady asked as he walked around the corner. He had his measuring tape to go upstairs.

  She put down the phone and slid the business card into her pocket. The time had come to be honest.

  “I know I’ve been distant lately,” she said to Grady.

  “Distant?” Grady asked.

  “Since Italy,” Sara said.

  Her trip had been months before. Some of the longest months of her life, except for the two days at Christmas that Julia was there. Sara gazed at the throw rug at the foot of the stairs, as if her words were scattered on the floor in Scrabble pieces that she had to arrange before they counted for anything.

  Stillness pervaded the background of their lives. Grady’s impatience was visible. He jiggled his keys. What she was about to say had nothing and everything to do with her latest doctor visit and the test results she was about to receive.

  “Grady, something happened in Italy last summer.” Her confession, rehearsed for months, now sounded contrived, like a line in a badly written romance novel.

  “What happened?” he said. His voice sounded cautious.

  Sara hesitated. Was it too late to close the door she had just opened? Yet something inside her made her keep going. “I found something in Italy I don’t think I can give up.” Her voice quivered. She wanted it to sound stronger.

  Grady’s caution changed into irritation. His eyes narrowed. “And you’re just now realizing this?”

  Sara was walking dangerously close to the edge of a cliff. She wanted to jump. At the same time she wanted someone to pull her back to safety.

  “Grady, this is going to sound crazy . . . but I think I found my life there.”

  His frown deepened. “You’re always speaking in riddles, Sara. Just give it to me in English.”

  Her introspection lacked the practicality Grady valued most. But she didn’t back down. “In Italy I was a totally different person,” she said.

  “What are you trying to tell me?” he asked, his patience now ragged, like a pair of old jeans where skin shows through the knees.

  “I fell in love,” she said, surprised by her deeper confession.

  “You fell in love?” His eyes locked onto hers. It was both strange and uncomfortable to have his undivided attention. He studied Sara like a tool he was unsure how to operate. “I suppose Julia introduced you to him,” he said finally.

  It angered Sara that he thought she would never have the courage to do this on her own. “Yes, in a way, I guess she did,” Sara said.

  Grady jiggled his keys again.

  “Would you please stop that?”

  The jiggling ceased.

  “I think the someone I met was me,” Sara said boldly.

  “Where do you come up with this psychological bullshit?” His voice was low, like the growl of a dog sensing an intruder.

  It occurred to Sara how refreshing it was to finally see an honest emotion coming from him. “This has been coming for years,” she said. “You know it has. This didn’t just happen because I went away to Italy.”

  “You sound ridiculous.” His anger darted toward her.

  But her chest felt lighter, as if the truth was liberating her. “We had to face our marriage sooner or later,” she said. “Italy just accelerated things.”

  “So what happened in Italy?” he asked again.

  Too late to turn back, she plunged forward with the truth. “I fell in love with Julia.”

  He smiled at first, as if she were joking. But then his expression changed and silence pervaded the room like a poison gas released to render them helpless.

  “I didn’t want to lie about it anymore,” Sara said softly. “I felt I owed you more than that.”

  He smiled a half-smile, as though struck by something ironic. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Maybe you could just say what you feel.”
>
  He laughed a short laugh and walked into the dining room and opened the bottom door of the china cabinet where they had kept an assortment of liquor over the years. He took out a bottle of Irish whiskey and went into the kitchen to pour himself a drink. When he came back into the hallway he swallowed the drink dramatically like an actor playing the part of a jilted lover in an old Hollywood movie.

  “You want me to say what I feel?” His tone rose. “Well, how about this, Sara. I feel screwed. After twenty-five years of marriage, you’re in love with someone else? And that someone else is Julia? Since when are you gay, Sara?”

  The distaste in his question was pungent. Sara stared down his judgment. “That’s not what this is about,” she said.

  “The hell it isn’t!” He finished his drink. “Is that why she visited at Christmas? So you two could have a little fling?”

  Sara lowered her eyes. Being with Julia at Christmas had only confused her more. In Italy, her betrayal of Grady and her life in the States had seemed less of an issue. After all, hadn’t Grady done the same? Except he had had an affair in the same town and with someone in his office, right under her nose.

  Sara followed Grady into the kitchen. He sat at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. Sara thought of Max and Melanie’s table at the farmhouse. That last morning in Siena she had awoken early and gone downstairs and carved her name in the wood right next to Julia’s. Over the last seven months she had thought of it often, the coarse letters of her name beside Julia’s, a tactile memory of their closeness.

  “I’m not good at things like this,” he said. “I never know what to say.” He lifted his head and stared at his hands, as if looking at Sara held too big of a challenge.

  “I’d really like it if we could just be honest with one another,” Sara said.

  “Honesty isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be,” he said. His sarcasm ended in a brief laugh.

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But I think we should try.”

  “It’s just so unexpected, Sara. What are we supposed to do now?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said truthfully.

  The thought entered her mind that this was the first real conversation they had had in years. In the past they had traded sentences with each other and now there were paragraphs.