Indivisible Line (21 page)

“What I want to know is what she’s doing there with you. That child will stop at nothing to pile more shame on this family. I want to talk to her.”

Greg knew he was about to cross a line, but he wasn’t going to hold back now. “Aren’t you even going to ask how your daughter is? Didn’t you hear what I said? She was in an accident. She could’ve died, and all you’re worried about is your goddamn reputation?” His voice rose, and he darted a quick glance at Sarah’s sleeping form in time to see her eyes flutter open.

“My daughter is my concern. Don’t tell me what I should be doing, Mr. Andrews. You’ve done enough damage in our lives. Let me talk to Sarah,” Ahila all but shouted.

“You don’t deserve such a loving and hardworking daughter, you piece of—”

“Greg, what’s going on? Who are you talking to?” Sarah’s sleepy voice stopped him from cursing the old man out.

Just in time,
he thought. Greg cupped a palm over the phone and pivoted to face Sarah. He vacillated between lying to her and coming clean about Ahila wanting to speak to her. Somehow he knew this wasn’t the type of situation he could hide from her for long. She was bound to find out, and besides, family dynamics weren’t his forte—his relationship with his own parents was on the verge of falling apart, after all. He just hoped he could prepare her for the tongue-lashing he expected her to receive.

“I have your father on the phone. I had to call to let him know about your accident.”

Despair flitted across Sarah’s face before she reached out her hand. “Let me talk to him.”

Greg walked toward the hospital bed and handed her the phone. He knew he should give her some privacy, but he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone, so he slinked back to the sofa and sat down.

“Papa,” Sarah whispered into the phone.

“I’m not asking you to come back home. I’m
telling
you to return, but just because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”
 

Her father’s tone startled her. She had no expectations of him, but the lack of compassion in his voice hit her with startling clarity that his anger hadn’t subsided. It didn’t matter at this point that his daughter had missed death by a narrow margin. Sarah was embarrassed to have expected more than what she knew her father believed she deserved.

“I can’t. I’m in no condition to travel.” She choked back the sob, blinking back the tears that stung her eyes.

“I will send someone to get you. You’re not to venture out of this town ever—”

Sarah refused to listen anymore. “Didn’t you hear what I said, Papa? I can’t leave.”

“You’re the one who’s not listening! I want you home where I can keep an eye on you. You must stop this foolishness, Sarah. This rebellious behavior has gone far enough.” Her father’s clear disdain brooked no argument.

She shook her head in defiance even if he had no way of seeing her. “I heard what you said, Papa. Your threats won’t make me come home. I will stay where I’m wanted. Can’t you, for just once in your life, think of me as a person with a mind of her own?” she replied with uncharacteristic boldness. Even though it pained her to talk to her father this way, he needed to hear what she had to say. The angry tears she’d fought to restrain gushed out, and she wiped them away with trembling fingers.

Ahila laughed with scorn. “My daughter, you’re going to regret your decision.”
 

Sarah’s stomach clenched.
 

“The day will come when you’ll crawl back here and beg for forgiveness. It’s just a matter of time, mark my words. I’ll be waiting for you.”

His rebuke stung, and Sarah felt like she had lost her father all over again. This conversation had created an even bigger rift between them, far wider than could ever be repaired. She knew she’d regret her decision one day, but she couldn’t think that far ahead. Blinded by her emotions, all she wanted from Ahila was respect for her point of view and her decisions, not to be treated like child who was incapable of deciding for herself.

“I’m sorry, Papa.” She hung up.

Greg walked in her direction with hesitant steps. With the brace wrapped around her neck and body, she couldn’t move or turn her face away, but she didn’t want him to see her anguish. She didn’t want his pity, nor did she want to hear what he had to say.

Sarah closed her eyes and sobbed, breathing through her mouth to keep the nausea at bay. Greg sat on the bed next to her and said nothing. Instead, he held her hand in that comforting way he always did and let her deal with her misery. He offered her the sanctuary of his presence and the comfort of his silence. Gathering her up into his arms, he began to rock her in a gentle rhythm until she yielded to a restless sleep.

Following the week after her homecoming, Sarah felt much better and almost back to her old self. Aside from the occasional back pain and numbness in her legs and feet, her healing came along just as Dr. Darnell had predicted it would. Matilda fussed over her like a mother hen, refusing to let her even lift a finger and feeding her home-cooked meals to “fatten her up.”

“You’re too thin. You’ve lost a lot of weight. High winds will blow you away if you don’t listen to me,” Matilda uttered over and over while she pushed food into Sarah’s mouth as if she were a child.

Walking to the bathroom had even become a big production. Even without Matilda hovering around her like a hawk, the few instances Sarah had attempted to get up on her own had been thwarted by Greg’s inevitable presence. His legs had gotten stronger, allowing him to pick her up and take her to the bathroom before she even had time to protest. This treatment went on until she was about to scream.

When Sarah expressed her frustration, Greg just held her gaze and reminded her that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, in particular while she was living in his house. So for the next two weeks, she was held hostage by two impossible, overzealous, caring individuals. They regarded her like delicate china, which made the slightest flinch from pain an unbearable embarrassment.

The days fell into a regular pattern. Greg carried Sarah to his study, and they would spend the day together. He attended office meetings via satellite, answered important forwarded calls, and ran the business from his home office, while she poured over the materials Barry had arranged for the school to send. This routine started after breakfast and was followed by an hour of lunch. Then they went back for another two to three hours of quiet work before they quit for the day.

Although their time together had been spent doing their respective work, it had also given Sarah plenty of opportunity to observe Greg. She learned a lot of things about him in the process, but it was his compassion for others that touched her the most. While she worked nearby, she overheard him order flowers for an employee who had a baby and listened to him scold another to take a break.

Most interesting were Greg’s facial expressions—the way he furrowed his eyebrows before making a big business decision, smiled with contentment after sealing a business deal, and pretended to read when she caught him staring at her. Those were times when confusion muddled her mind. Everything reminded Sarah of the strange, unspoken emotions that had arisen between them, growing as each day passed, implicit and larger than life.

Greg was reluctant to leave her side and almost never left the house. As much as Sarah had grown to love his company, she would have appreciated a respite from the nagging issues that surrounded them. It was just a matter of time before those matters demanded her attention. She often wondered what was going on with his wife and what that condescending woman would think if she found out about their living arrangement. He never once mentioned his parents or the shooting. Sarah sensed that these things weighed on him, but he clammed up whenever she brought up either subject.

There were instances when he took phone calls in the privacy of his bedroom, but not before she’d overheard him mention lawsuits, lawyers, and other things she knew nothing about. Sarah saw worry shoot across his face several times, but he always dismissed her inquiries. She surmised there was a group of related problems that he refused to talk about, but she respected his need for space, just as he did with her issues with her father.

Greg never brought up the phone conversation she’d had with her father in the hospital. For that, she was grateful. Despite her curiosity about Greg’s life, she was content to live on the sideline and learn from the man who had given her so much.

One afternoon after an unscheduled nap, she found a note on her dresser from him. She hurried to open it, her heart beating hard against her chest.

I’m going to meet a colleague for a couple of hours. I hope you enjoyed your nap. Greg.

Sarah wound up deciding to take the rest of the afternoon off, dozing on and off for the next hour. Afterward, she wandered to the kitchen where Matilda was humming a tune and covering a casserole with aluminum foil. Sarah climbed on the barstool and grabbed the television remote.

“Good evening, sweet pea. How was your nap?” Matilda looked over her shoulder and smiled. The term of endearment had spawned from Sarah’s dislike of peas, which the older lady persisted in feeding her despite her objections.

She teased back, “Hello, Nanny. It was great.” Sarah flicked on the remote control and started channel surfing. Most of the basic channels were transmitting the evening news, so she kept flipping, but Sarah switched back when she heard one newscaster mention Greg’s name. Matilda’s mouth gaped open while they watched and listened in horror.

“Gregory Andrews III, with his lawyer, appeared before a judge today on assault charges filed by George Rickard.” A segment of Greg and the lawyer flashed on the screen, and the newscaster continued. “The incident happened following an accident on Sixty-Ninth Street, in which Mr. Rickard’s cab hit pedestrian Sarah Jones. According to several eyewitnesses, Mr. Andrews attacked Mr. Rickard, resulting in a broken nose and fractured jaw.

“According to our sources, Mr. Andrews appeared grief-stricken following the accident. We have no details regarding his relationship to the accident victim at this time. Mr. Andrews was named one of New York City’s top twenty businessmen of 2011 and has been going through a long and messy divorce from estranged wife Cassandra Denver-Andrews.” A picture of Greg and Cassandra during happier times was then plastered on the screen.
 

Matilda started sobbing. “Turn it off, turn it off!” she screeched. Her eyes filled with tears, and she grabbed the remote control from Sarah. “I don’t want to hear it. They tell lies!”

“Is it true?” Sarah’s heart pounded in deep, painful thuds. “Did Greg attack that man?”

“Yes . . . he thought the man killed you. He hit you, Sarah. Greg will fight this. He has the best lawyer in town.” Matilda sniffled while she wiped the tears from her eyes.
 

Sarah’s heart sank further. “I’m sure he’ll be all right,” she reassured the housekeeper and hoped to God it was true.
 

Matilda nodded and went back to her chores, leaving Sarah to dwell on the gravity of Greg’s situation.

Sarah waited in the living room for Greg to return. It was past seven when the front door opened and closed. One set of footsteps proceeded to the kitchen, while the other continued in the direction of the bedrooms.
 

Sarah had left the lights off on purpose to give her the chance to watch Greg first without him knowing. Even in the darkness, his demanding presence was hard to miss. She recognized exhaustion in the heaviness of his footfalls. His powerful shoulders slumped, and the hard plane of his jaw was tight. Greg was an image of a man who carried a burden, alone and isolated. It was a pity that she couldn’t ease his pain.

She listened to his dragging feet while he crossed the hallway to his bedroom. Hugging her knees to her chest, she waited, knowing what would happen next. Just as she’d predicted, Greg came gunning down the hallway.

“Sarah!”

“I’m here, Greg,” she called out.

When he turned the lights on, she had to squint her eyes to see him. Traces of worry were evident in his weary expression, but he hid them as soon as their eyes connected. If there was one thing Sarah knew about Greg, it was this—he always tried to hide his feelings as much as possible. The times he faltered were rare, but they were enough to reveal his vulnerable side.

“You almost gave me a heart attack.” He flopped on the sofa next to her.