Sara's Song (42 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Sara's Song
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Sara's voice was little more than a whisper when she started to talk. As she became comfortable with her thoughts and feelings, her voice grew stronger. “I want it all. I want everything I missed, everything I gave up. want to be a kid for a little while. I want to know what it feels like to be a teenager without sixty pounds of books on my back. I want to dance and flirt. I want pretty clothes that swish and fuss about my knees and ankles. I want to wear perfume that makes people turn around to see who is wearing it. I want to fall in love and have that person fall in love with me. I want us to do all the things I never got to do. I want him to care if I don't feel well. I want him to make a mess in the kitchen when I'm sick in bed and he has to make me food. I want to do the same thing for him. A dog and a cat to make us a family. I want us to fight and kiss and make up. I want all of that. I want to be loved, so I can love back. I want someone to call my own. I want to be able to say, ‘This is my husband.' I want his face to be the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night and the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning. I want to hear him tell me my cooking is wonderful or that it stinks. I want to see what I feel for him reflected in his eyes because he feels the same thing. Then and only then I want to get a space that is truly my own, maybe a garage or the basement, and I want to make pottery. I want to create and design something that says Sara Killian made this. I don't care if it's good or bad. I'll get better and improve with practice in time, but if I don't, that's okay, too.” Sara stopped long enough to take a deep breath.
“You're doing real good, Sara. Listen to this, my fortune cookie says I am going to come into a windfall. Yours says—are you ready?” Sara nodded. “Yours says, ‘In order to soar with the eagles, you have to be free.'”
Sara laughed. “You made that up, Nellie. What does it really say?”
“It says, ‘A wise man never counts his change.' I have no idea what that means. It sounds pretty stupid if you ask me. I always count my change.”
Sara smiled. “I do, too. So, are you going to grant my three wishes?'
“I don't have to grant them. Don't you know anything, Sara? Fairy godmothers only grant the impossible. Everything you mentioned is something you can do yourself. In fact, you are the only one who can do them. When you want something you have to go after it. If you don't, you get left at the gate. Now, what's our game plan?”
“I don't have one.”
“Get one.”
“Nellie, it isn't that easy. No one knows Dallas is alive but us. I don't even know where he is. The answering machine doesn't come on in Charleston. They're away. They could be anywhere.”
“Criminals always return to the scene of the crime. Carly told me that.”
“They aren't criminals, Nellie. What crime are you talking about?”
“Dallas's secret identity. No one would ever look for him at his own house. You told me it was for sale, and I saw it listed for five million dollars. Not too many people buy that kind of house. I bet he's holed up there. The brother, too, and all those dogs. It's the perfect place if you stop to think about it. We could drive up there. Or, you could drive up there just to, you know, see if there are any lights on. Then you can come home and stew and fret while you think up a plan that won't be too obvious.”
“Let's do it! I'll get dressed. How's the truck running?”
“Like a top.”
Sara laughed all the way to her bedroom. She returned to the kitchen, grabbed her jacket, and they were off.
An hour later, Sara said, “I feel like a sneak. Carly used to do this when she was in high school. She'd make me drive past some boy's house sometimes eight or nine times just hoping he'd be outside. Do you feel like a sneak, Nellie?”
“Not at all. Are we just going to sit here by the gate with the lights off, or are we going to get out and walk around?”
“I can see lights. Someone is here unless the lights are on timers. If we go any farther, the dogs will start to bark. We didn't come up here to go in, Nellie.”
“That's right. We just came up here to spy.”
“Right. I'm going to call the house and see if anyone answers. That will tell us everything we need to know. I'll dial the number and you ask for some fictitious person. They don't know your voice. Just say it's a wrong number.”
Nellie rolled her eyes but did as instructed. “A man answered, and I could hear other men in the background. I didn't hear the dogs, though. My goodness, you are twitchy tonight. You do love him, don't you? I need a name, Sara.”
Sara took a deep breath. “I'm in love with Dallas Lord.”
Nellie clapped her hands. “That wasn't so hard, was it?”
“No. The hard part is what if he isn't in love with me? He said he wasn't. I said I wasn't either, but I was lying to myself. I almost had myself convinced I didn't love him. Do you think he was doing the same thing?”
Nellie didn't know what she thought. “I'm sure of it.”
“You are so full of it, Nellie, but thanks for saying that. God, I feel giddy.”
“Then we better get you home before you do something that isn't in your game plan.”
“Tomorrow is another day. I have a lot of tomorrows on my horizon, Nellie.”
“Yes, you do, Sara.”
“Let's go home, Nellie. I love this truck and you're right, it does run like a top. What would you say, Nellie, if I told you I wanted to get out of this truck right now and dance down this canyon road?”
“I'd say do it. I'll pick you up at the bottom.”
“I'm going to do it. I am doing it. I really am. First I'm Mata Hari, then I'm Ginger Rogers, and God alone knows what I'll be when I get home.”
“Try a woman in love,” Nellie called over her shoulder.
“A woman in love is good,” Sara shot back.
 
 
Adam watched his brother through the kitchen window, his heart swelling with pride. The change in Dallas was so overwhelming he was having a hard time dealing with what he now called the new Dallas. His brother was assertive, opinionated and he was no longer shy and withdrawn. If anything, he was in his face from morning to night, saying over and over, “I feel like I've been reborn.” The rocker clothes and stringy hair were gone. The earring and the heavy gold chain he used to wear constantly had never been replaced. He wore Brooks Brothers loafers with tassels, creased trousers, and crisply ironed shirts. On any given day he could have passed for a relaxed Wall Street broker. The dog he'd rescued from the pound was healthy and fit and was always at his side. What Adam was seeing was a wonderful picture, something he never thought he'd see in his lifetime. If Dallas could just get his act together where Sara Killian was concerned, the picture would be complete.
Adam leafed through the mail. Release forms for Dallas to sign. In just a few days Dallas would rise from the dead and go in front of the cameras on prime time to tell his story. At the end of the live interview, the program would go to the prerecorded segment of the Canyon River Band playing “Sara's Song.” It was going to be Dallas's swan song before he announced his retirement.
“How's it going, Dallas?” Adam asked, the screen door banging behind him.
“Not bad. Did anything important come in the mail?”
“Just the release forms and the water bill. You have to sign them now, so I can FedEx them back to the station. You're sure you're okay with this?”
“Adam, I can't live a lie. That's not who I am or what I'm about these days. I can make a life for myself doing whatever I want to do. I'm not saying I'll never record or write music again. I burned out three years ago. I don't know how or why I kept on going. Sometimes it's just time to hang it all up. This is my time. Hell, I might even go to college one of these days.” He scrawled his signature in six different places. Adam scooped up the papers and slid them into the return envelope.
“I'm going to take these to town. I want to make sure they get out today. Can I get you anything while I'm there?”
“No. I made up my mind about something, Adam. After the broadcast, if I don't hear from Sara, I'm going to my ranch in Montana. I'm going to put down some roots and go on from there. I know where I want to go now, and I think I know how to get there. You found your niche in Charleston. Mine is in Big Sky country. Lots of space, fresh air, and peace. I want to hear the silence and the birds in the morning. Half my hearing is gone, so I need to hear these things now. The doctor called with the results of my physical. Aside from my hearing loss, which I knew about, I'm in good shape. I did have to get glasses, both for distance and up close. What do you think?” he asked, sliding on the wire-rimmed glasses. “They're bifocals,” he said proudly.
Adam laughed. “You look more like a professor than a professor does. They make you look . . . bookish.”
“I like that word. Bookish, huh?”
“Uh-huh. Dallas, about Sara. Have you tried to locate her? I told you before, she won't be hard to find.”
“That's what you think. She quit her job at that New York hospital. She walked out on her lease at her apartment. I hired a private dick. She didn't leave a forwarding address.”
“Jesus, Dallas, go to the sister or that old nurse. They'll know where she is.”
“I can't find the sister. I left a message this morning on the nurse's answering machine. She hasn't called back.”
“This came in the mail today. My cleaning lady sent it on with some other unimportant stuff. Sara made the first move, Dallas. It's your turn now.” Adam watched as his brother's face turned white. He also noticed the way his hand trembled when he held the voided check. “Well, what are you going to do?”
“Why didn't you give it to me right away, Adam?”
“I don't know. I think I had this cockamamie idea that I could go out and find her and drag her back here. Then I realized that I was doing what I always did where you're concerned. I don't want to make any more mistakes.”
“It's okay. I understand. I need to think about this a little. Hey, if you're in town pick up my suit, okay?”
“Suit?”
“Yeah, you know, suit. White shirt, tie, the whole works. Threads. Here's the ticket.” Dallas rummaged among the papers on the kitchen table. “It's paid for.”
“You're wearing a suit for the interview?”
“And my glasses and my new hearing aid.”
Adam clapped his brother on the back. “Way to go, Dallas.”
“Bookish, huh?”
“Yeah.”
Adam could hear his brother laughing all the way to the garage. The sound felt so good and so right.
 
 
Sara dressed for the occasion; lunch with Nellie. This was her first real outing, as Nellie called it, since returning to Los Angeles two days ago. “Sara Killian, you look positively . . .
flirty.”
She wondered if there was such a word. Well, there is now. A giggle escaped through her lips. The sound pleased her. So did the skinny minidress. High-necked, long-sleeved, and
short
. The smoky panty hose made her legs look sexy, as did the shoes that were nothing more than a few straps glued to a sole and a thin heel. A white bolero jacket and envelope purse completed her outfit. Today the voluminous black bag was being left behind because it was empty. She might even throw it away at some point. Her shoulders felt physically and mentally lighter.
Sara gave her reflection one last glance. Earlier she'd gotten her hair cut and highlighted. She'd spent a whole hour on her makeup and had agonized for fifteen minutes over which perfume to spritz on herself for her first foray into the outside world she'd shut out for so long.
Nellie smiled her approval when Sara entered the restaurant. “I like your metamorphosis. I think it calls for a large carafe of wine that we will consume in its entirety. Is that okay with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“Every man in this restaurant is looking at you.”
Sara smiled. “I know.”
Nellie laughed as she opened her menu. “I think we should order something absolutely decadent to go with the wine.”
“You choose, Nellie, but not too decadent. It took me a whole year to lose fifteen pounds, and I don't want to put it back on. One pound, and this dress is history.”
“How about a crabmeat salad?”
“That sounds good. Oh, God, Nellie, there's Adam Lord. My heart is beating so fast I can't breathe. What if he comes over here?”
“That's the guy who wore my sweater. You're right, orange isn't his color. So what if he comes over. Don't you want to know about Dallas?”

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