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Authors: Fern Michaels

Sara's Song (44 page)

BOOK: Sara's Song
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“It's the horseradish,” Tom said.
“I'm going down there,” Dallas said.
“You have our blessing,” Tom and Adam said in unison.
 
 
Dallas was back in ninety minutes. “She's not there. The house was dark, and there are new locks on the doors. I tried to pick the lock, but I couldn't. There's a For Sale sign in the yard and a lockbox on the door. I looked through the garage window, and there was no car in the garage.”
“Maybe she's with her sister or the nurse,” Adam volunteered.
“I checked the nurse's apartment. No one was there either. I have no idea where the sister is. Where the hell could she be?”
“Maybe she's at her pottery shop,” Tom said. Dallas shot him a withering look.
“Let it rest, Dallas. She'll see the broadcast and call or come up. Trust me. I know a
little
bit about women.”
Dallas spent the next two and a half days pacing and rehearsing what he was going to say during his live interview. Sara spent the time reading about pottery at the local library.
On Tuesday evening, Sara settled herself on the sofa, Nellie at her side. The remote was in her shaky hand. A pot of strong black coffee sat on the coffee table.
“It's amazing that this has been kept secret. Everything in this town is up for grabs.”
“It's on! It's on!” Nellie cried. “God in heaven, is that Dallas Lord?”
“Oh, Nellie, look at him. He looks . . . he looks . . .”
“Just like his brother.”
“He's wearing glasses. Nellie is that a hearing aid?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, God, that explains so many things. I must be the stupidest person walking this earth. I'm a doctor, why didn't I pick up on his hearing and his eyesight? I used to think he was
spacey.
He probably didn't hear half the things I said to him. If his eyesight is bad, then he probably wasn't being spacey at all.”
“What ever came before doesn't matter. Be quiet and listen to what he's saying. I thought you said he was . . .
ditzy
. That person on the screen is no
ditz.
”
“No, he isn't.” Tears dripped down Sara's cheeks. “I'm outta here, Nellie.”
“Aren't you going to see the end?”
“I don't need to see the end. I'll make my own ending. I gotta go before people start swarming up there. Are you going to wish me luck?”
“Honey, you don't need any luck. It's all yours, just reach out. Go on, go!”
“Do I look okay?”
“You look fine. Go! Take my truck. I parked behind you. No sense in wasting time moving cars. Will you go already! If you floor that baby, you can get her up to eighty,” Nellie shouted. “Take care of it, it's your wedding present.”
Nellie was wrong. The old truck was doing eighty-five when a siren blasted the night air. Sara gritted her teeth as she pulled over to the side of the road. “I'm a doctor, Officer. I'm going to . . . an emergency. It's life and death. Please, I have to go.”
“Follow me, Doctor,” the cop said.
Lights flashing, siren wailing, Sara sailed up the canyon road behind the police cruiser. “I'll probably get ten years for this,” she muttered.
Inside Dallas's mansion, Adam frowned at the sound of the police siren.
“Jesus, are they here already to arrest me? Listen, Adam, I have to get out of here.”
“Look at the monitor, Dallas, and tell me what you see.”
The color left Dallas's face. “C'mon, you guys, clear out. The show's over. Get this film crew out of here, Adam.”
“I love a happy ending,” Tom said.
“It's the only way to go. Hey, we've got the best seat in the house. She's getting out of the truck. He's almost there. They're looking at one another. Come on, Dallas, move!”
“What are they waiting for?” Tom demanded.
“They're drinking in the sight of each other.”
“Huh?”
“It sounded good, didn't it.” Adam said.
“Yeah. Yeah, it did.”
“Shhh,” Adam said putting his finger to his lips.
“Gee, I wish there was sound.”
“No you don't. Turn off the cameras, Tom.”
Outside; Sara could only stare at the man coming toward her. Her feet felt rooted to the concrete.
“Are we going to get married or not?” Dallas asked.
“Are you asking?” Sara whispered.
“I'm asking.”
“Then I'm answering, and I'm saying yes. I'm not a doctor anymore, Dallas. What I mean is, I'll always be a doctor, but I'm not going to practice medicine any longer. You really spooked me when you said you were going to build me a private hospital and all that stuff. I felt like you put a chain around my neck.”
“I thought it was what you wanted. I'm not going to be a musician anymore either. I might want to perform someday, but that's way far into the future.”
Dallas advanced a step. Sara advanced a step and then she was in his arms and then time stood still but only after the world exploded around them.
“We need to talk, Sara. We need to make decisions. Right now both of us are free. We don't have jobs, and that's by our choice. I'd like it if you'd tell me what it is you want, and then I'll tell you what I want. We have to agree and work at this together because we're going to be spending the rest of our lives together. I don't want either one of us to have regrets later on. Both of us have had enough of that. Let's sit over here on the grass and talk.”
“I love you. I never said that out loud to anyone in my life. My heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest. I fell in love with you the night you walked into the hospital,” Sara said.
“I waited all my life for someone like you, Sara. It seems like I always loved you. I can't put a time or place to it. If you absolutely need a time and a place, then it was when I saw you guzzling one bottle of root beer after the other. You didn't even burp. That's the amazing thing. I love you, Sara Killian, and I will always love you. You are the wind beneath my wings.”
“Oh, Dallas, that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. What are we going to do? We need to do
something
. We can't just coast. Promise you won't laugh if I tell you what I really want to do. If it isn't feasible, I can fall back and regroup. I want to make pottery. I want to make something with my hands. I want to sign my name to it. I want someone out there to say, somebody named Sara Killian made this. I don't know why that's so important to me but it is. It's a real stretch going from being a doctor to being a potter. It's not just that I want to do it. I
need
to do it, Dallas. I also need to know you won't think less of me if I do it.”
“Sara, I want what you want. I want us to be happy. Life is too damn short to be doing something that makes you unhappy. Can you make pottery in Montana? Will it be too cold? We can get an extra furnace. What's the first thing you're going to make?”
“A bowl for your dog with his name on it. I have to start out small. Now, tell me about you. What will you be doing while I'm making pottery?”
“Will you laugh if I tell you what I want to do?”
“I would never laugh at you, Dallas. Tell me.”
“When I get better at this writing business, I'm going to go to college. And . . . are you ready for the
and?”
Sara nodded. “I'm going to write a book. I only touched on it tonight during the interview. I want it to be my words, so that means I have to do it myself. I think I can do it. I want everyone to know what it was like for me, and I want them to know what Adam did for me. I don't want any secrets in my life.”
“That's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard. I'll be there every step of the way to offer encouragement.”
“I know I can do it. Do you really think you can live in Montana? It gets real cold there. It's Big Sky country. You can sell your pottery at the state fair. You might even win a prize. I saw something in your eyes once that I couldn't understand. I'm seeing it now. We had a very strange relationship. What is it I'm seeing in your eyes?”
“The same thing I see in yours. We were both stupid, Dallas. Oh, it feels so good to make decisions and to know both of us agree with each other.”
“How would you like to fly to Vegas and get married in one of those drive-through chapels?”
Sara laughed. “I'd love it.”
“I saw you on the news. You looked pretty good. What happened to the guy?”
“They fired him. Are you going to kiss me or not?”
“Damn right I'm going to kiss you. Get in the truck. I'd kill to own this truck. Do you have any idea how great this would be on the ranch?”
“You won't have to kill for it. Nellie's giving it to me for a wedding present. Are you going to kiss me now?”
“I am going to kiss you now, Sara Killian. Then I'm going to sit here in this truck and sing you a song. Your song. We recorded ‘Sara's Song,' and the boys loved it. All the proceeds are going to a foundation Adam set up for people. with learning disabilities. It will be number one on the charts before you can blink.”
“Are we going to be happy, Dallas, forever and ever?”
“Damn right we are. Now, pucker up.”
A very long time later, Sura said, “I really
liked
that. Do it again, and don't stop till I tell you to stop.”
He did, and he didn't.
 
 
Dallas tossed the last of his suitcases into the back of Nellie's truck. He felt his throat start to close when he saw his brother walk toward the truck. “Guess this is good-bye for now, Adam.”
Adam's voice was gruff and hoarse when he clapped his brother on the back. He cleared his throat. “We agreed, Dallas, I come to Montana for your Fourth of July fireworks and you come to Charleston for Christmas. Easter is up for grabs an so is any other holiday on the calendar. I'm going to miss you.”
“Yeah, me too. When I graduate, you're coming, right?”
“Nothing in this world could keep me away. Dallas, are you sure you want to get married in one of those drive-through chapels?”
“Yeah. We want the memory. Adam One here is going to be our witness. Anything goes in Vegas. I like it that your family is giving us a send-off. Seven dogs!”
Dallas dropped to his haunches to scratch first one dog and then the other behind the ears. When he came to Dallas Six he raised his eyes to stare at his brother. He knew if he asked for the pup, Adam would hand him over. “Give him a little extra love, Adam. For me. Where's Tom?”
“He went into the house to get your wedding present. Be happy,” he whispered in Sara's ear.
“You, too, Adam. Thanks for everything. We'll write and call. Oh, oh, what's this?”
“A small token of our love and admiration. Her name is Rosie. Adam One already loves her. He spent the night curled up next to her. She's a Yorkie. A teacup. She won't weigh more than four pounds full-grown.”
“I don't know what to say,” Sara said.
“You don't have to say anything. Just love her, she'll do the rest.”
They were in the truck heading down the driveway when Dallas backed up till he was within shouting distance of his brother. “Hey, Adam, I forgot to tell you that Adam One had his way with Izzie yesterday. We'll be back in nine weeks since we get the pick of the litter.”
“Oh, God!” Tom Silk groaned.
“Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sweat the small stuff, Tom?”
“Be happy!” Adam shouted, his voice, full of laughter, ricocheting down the canyon.
“We will,” Dallas shouted in return.
If you love the Sisterhood series,
but are hungry for a non-Sisterhood story from
Fern Michaels, you're in luck!
 
Her next stand-alone novel will be
coming from Kensington in May 2010.
 
Turn the page for a special preview of
RETURN TO SENDER,
the wonderful new bestseller by Fern Michaels.
Prologue
January 13, 1989
Dalton, Georgia
 
R
osalind Townsend, whom everyone called Lin, held her newborn son tightly in her arms as the orderly wheeled her to the hospital's administration office: A nurse tried to take him from her so she could tend to the business of her release, but she refused to give him up.
After eighteen hours of agonizing labor without any medication, she'd delivered a healthy six-pound eight-ounce baby boy. She wasn't about to let him out of her sight.
She'd named him William Michael Townsend. A good, solid name. She would call him Will.
Like his father's, Will's hair was a deep black, so dark it appeared to be blue. Lin wasn't sure about his eyes at this point. She'd read in her baby book that a newborn's eye color wasn't true at birth. Nothing about him resembled her, as she was fair-haired with unusual silver-colored eyes and milk white skin.
She gazed down at the securely wrapped bundle in her arms and ran her thumb across his delicate cheek. Soft as silk. He yawned, revealing tender, pink gums. Lin smiled down at her son. No matter what her circumstances, she made a vow to herself: she would devote her life to caring for this precious little child.
Lin had spent the past seven months preparing for this day. During the day she worked at J & G Carpet Mills as a secretary. Five evenings a week and weekend mornings, she waited tables at Jack's Diner. Other than what it cost for rent, food, and utilities, Lin saved every cent she made. She had to be conservative, because it was just her and Will. She would allow herself a week off from both jobs so she could bond with her son, adjust to her new life as a mother. While she would've loved spending more time with her son, being the sole caregiver and provider made that impossible. She'd lucked out when Sally, a coworker at Jack's and a single mother to boot, had asked her if she would sit for her two-year-old daughter, Lizzie. In return, Sally would look after the baby on the days that she wasn't working. Lin had agreed because she had to. There were still the days to cover, but Sally gave her a list of reliable sitters she'd used in the past. Dear Sally. Only five years older than Lin but so much wiser to the ways of the world. They were fast becoming good friends. Sally was the complete opposite of Lin—tall, olive-skinned, with beautiful brown eyes that had a slight upward slant, giving her an Asian look. Lin had called three of the sitters: two highschool girls and one elderly woman. She would meet with them later in the week. Lin was sure that if Sally approved, she would as well.
Sadly, there would be no help from Will's father or her parents. Lin recalled her father's cruel words when he learned she was pregnant.
“May you burn in hell, you little harlot! You've disgraced my good name. Get out of my house. I don't ever want to lay eyes on you again or your bastard child!”
Lin had appealed to her mother in the hope she would intervene, but, as usual, her mother had cowered behind her father, accepting his word as law. Lin would never allow a man to intimidate her the way her father did her mother.
Never.
“Miss?”
Lin directed her attention back to the woman behind the administration desk. “Yes?”
“If you'll sign here and initial here.” The woman slid a single sheet of paper across the desk.
Lin signed the paper, releasing the hospital from any liability. Since she had no health insurance and refused public assistance, she could only afford to stay in the hospital for twenty-four hours. She'd spend the next two years paying a hundred dollars a month until her debt was paid in full.
The woman behind the desk reached into a drawer and pulled out a thick envelope. “Here, take these. You might find them useful.”
Lin took the envelope, peered inside. Coupons for diapers, formula, baby lotion, and anything else one might need. She gave the woman a wan smile. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Throughout her pregnancy, she had visited the local dollar store once a month. She'd purchased generic brands of baby items that were on the list of layette necessities she'd read about in the baby book given to her by her obstetrician. Lin didn't have extra money to spend on a homecoming outfit for the baby, so she'd gone to Goodwill and found a secondhand pale blue sweater set. She'd carefully hand washed it in Dreft detergent. Subsequently it had looked good as new. Someday, she swore to herself, her son wouldn't have to wear secondhand clothes.
The orderly wheeled her back to her room, where she dressed in the maternity clothes she'd worn when admitted to the hospital the day before. She ran her hand across her flat stomach. Now she would be able to wear the uniform Jack required, thus saving wear and tear on her few meager outfits. She gazed around the room to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind. Had it only been twenty-four hours since the taxi had dropped her off at the emergency room? It seemed like a week.
Lin carefully removed the sweater set she'd placed in her overnight bag. With ease, she dressed her son, smiling at the results. Will looked like a little prince in his blue outfit from Goodwill. Briefly, she thought of his father and their weeklong affair. What would his reaction be when he saw his son for the first time? After months of indecision, she'd finally written him another letter two months ago, the first one since she had been on her own, and mailed it to his parents' address in New York, the only way she knew to contact him. She'd begged Nancy Johnson, a girl Will's father had introduced her to, for his phone number as well, but the woman had been adamant about not revealing more of her friend's personal life. She'd told Lin that if Nicholas wanted her to have his phone number, he would have given it to her. The harsh words had stung, but there was more at stake than her raw feelings. She had a child to consider. She'd written a lengthy letter, revealing her pregnancy, telling Nicholas he would be a father shortly after the new year. Weeks passed without a response. Then just last week she'd trudged to the mailbox only to find the letter she'd sent unopened and marked
RETURN TO SENDER
.
What's one more rejection?
she'd asked herself.
Her father hadn't accepted her, either. Her mother had once told her that he'd always dreamed of having a son. At the time, Lin had been terribly hurt, but as the years passed, she learned to set those feelings aside. She'd been the best daughter she knew how to be in hopes of gaining some kind of approval, and maybe even a bit of love and affection from both parents, but that was not to be. When she told her parents about the decision to keep her baby, they were mortified and humiliated. She'd been tossed out of the only home she'd ever known with nothing more than the clothes on her back.
A soft, mewling sound jerked her out of the past. “It's okay, little one. I'm right here.”
With the quilt that Irma, Jack's wife, had made for him, Lin gently wrapped Will in a snug bundle. It was below freezing outside. Lin had halfheartedly listened to the local weather report as it blared from the television mounted above her bed. An ice storm was predicted. Meteorologists said it could be the worst in north Georgia history. With only two small electric space heaters, her garage apartment would be freezing. How she wished she could take Will to her childhood home. While it wasn't filled with love, at least it would be warm.
But Lin recalled the torturous evenings of her childhood. She would rather die than subject her son to such a strict and oftentimes cruel upbringing. Every evening, as far back as she could remember, she'd had to pray while kneeling on the hardwood floor in the living room as her father read from the Bible.
A die-hard Southern Baptist who considered himself a man of God, her father had constructed a pulpit for himself in the center of the living room from which he would gaze down at her with disdain, as though she weren't good enough. Then, as if that weren't bad enough, he'd make her recite the names of all the books of the Bible in order. If she missed one, he would make her start from the beginning until she named them correctly. Once, when she was about seven or eight, she remembered spending an entire night on her knees praying. She'd prayed hard, her father watching her the entire time. Little did he know she'd been praying for his immediate death. Many times she'd wet herself while on her knees in prayer. Her father wouldn't allow her to change her clothes or bathe afterward.
“The devil lives inside you, girly! Taking a shower ain't gonna cleanse your dirty soul!”
She'd winced the first time she'd heard those words. After a while, she became immune to his cruel words. She'd even gotten used to smelling like urine. The kids at school were relentless, calling her Miss Stinkypants. And she would do what she always did when she was hurting.
She prayed.
Every night that she knelt on that cold, hard floor, she prayed for her father's death. Not once in the seventeen years that she had lived in her father's house had he ever relented on this evening ritual. She had thick, ugly calluses on her knees to prove it.
When she left home, or rather when she was thrown out, she made a promise to herself: she would
never, ever
kneel again.
Freezing definitely held more appeal.
She checked the room one last time. One of the nurses waited to wheel her downstairs, where the hospital's courtesy van would take her and Will home.
In the lobby, the automatic doors opened, and a gush of icy air greeted her, smacking her in the face. She held Will close to her with one arm and carried her small suitcase with the other. The driver, an older black man, opened the door and reached for her bag. “You best hop inside, miss. This here cold ain't good for the young'un.” He nodded at the bundle in her arms.
Shivering, Lin stepped carefully up into the van. Thankful for the warm air blowing from the heater's vents, she sat on the hard vinyl seat and realized she was still very sore from the delivery. Her breasts felt as though they would explode. She couldn't wait to get home to nurse Will. She'd only be able to do so for the week she was home. Then she'd have to resort to formula. She'd calculated the expense, and while it was very costly, she would manage. Unfortunately, she had no choice.
“Thank you,” she said to the driver as she placed Will in the car seat beside her. When Lin had discovered she was pregnant, she'd been frightened, fearful of having inherited her parents' harsh and unloving manner. However, when Will was placed in her arms, the love she felt for him was the most natural thing in the world. Her worries had been for naught.
When mother and son were secure in their seats, the driver made his way through the parking lot. Waiting at the traffic light, he perused a stack of papers attached to a clipboard. “Tunnel Hill, ma'am?”
“Yes, just make a left on Lafayette, then take the second right.” Lin hated having to take Will home to a one-room garage apartment. Someday they would have a home with a big yard with flowers, a white picket fence, and lots of trees for him to climb. Will would have a swing set, and she'd watch him play. Yes, she would see to it that Will had a good home, and, whatever it took, she would make sure he had an education.
Lin remembered her father telling her years before that it was foolish for women to go to college, a waste of money. He'd assured her then that he would not contribute to her education, so after she'd preenrolled at Dalton Junior College during her senior year of high school, she'd saved enough money for the first year.
Having spent three terrifying nights alone in a cheap motel after her father threw her out, she'd made her first adult decision. Instead of using the money for college, she'd paid three months' rent on an apartment. In retrospect, her father's attitude had worked out well since it forced her to save for her education. If not, there wouldn't even be a place for her to bring Will.
The driver parked in her landlady's driveway. She hurriedly removed Will from the car seat and took her bag from the driver. “Thank you. I appreciate the ride.”
“Jus' doin' my job, miss. Now scoot on outta here. That ice storm's gonna hit real soon.”
“Yes, I know. Thanks again for the ride.”
Lin felt rather than saw the driver watching her as he slowly reversed down the long driveway. She didn't feel creepy at all, because she knew he was good and decent and just wanted to make sure she made it inside safely. A stranger cared more about her well-being than her own flesh and blood. Sad. But she smiled at her thoughts. She had the greatest gift ever, right here in her very own arms.
Holding Will tightly against her chest, she plodded down the long drive that led to the garage apartment. She felt for the key in her pocket, then stopped when she heard a whining noise. Putting her bag on the ground, she checked Will, but he was sound asleep. She heard the sound again.
“What the heck?” she said out loud.
On the side of the garage, at the bottom of the steep wooden steps that led to her apartment, Lin spotted a small dog and walked behind the steps where he hovered. Holding Will tightly, she held out her hand. Its brownish red fur matted with clumps of dirt, the ribs clearly visible, the poor dog looked scruffy and cold. He or she—she wasn't sure of the animal's gender—whined before standing on all fours, limping over to Lin, and licking her outstretched hand.
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