Secrets (22 page)

“You ever try to get her help?”

“She’s been hospitalized. She’s been in clinics for eating disorders, had mental evaluations, and met with psychiatrists. Then suddenly, she just stopped going out. Refused to go anywhere. She’s just there, wasting away. So you see, I’m not anorexic, not by any means.”

“And it’s important to you that I know this?”

“Yes. I eat very healthy. I count my calories, and make sure I eat enough of all the food groups.”

“Because it would be easy for you to not eat enough?”

“Yes, it would be easy for me to be like her. I don’t want to be. I want to be better. I am better. You have to lay off making me eat. I do. But when I eat a donut, for example, I screw up the rest of my day. I can’t make myself eat anything else. Then I act anorexic. So, I can’t do that.”

He let out a long sigh that whistled through his teeth. Wow. He almost didn’t know what to say. She probably realized that she fit under the general definition of anorexic behavior, but she made a valiant effort to not be. To not be her mother. She knew it wasn’t right, but couldn’t stop it completely.

“I wasn’t purposely trying to make you do anything. You don’t seem to know you look at my food like you want it. And so, yeah, I like giving it to you. I didn’t know this though. Your entire family has major issues with food.”

“I know. We do. That’s why I don’t bring anyone home. I’m not like her, am I? I mean, I don’t look like her, do I?”

“No. You don’t look like your mom,” he said gently. He could feel Sarah nearly pleading for him to like how she looked. “But my opinion doesn’t change what you see, does it? You see her, don’t you, in your mirror?”

She averted her gaze out the window. “Sometimes.”

“Sarah, you don’t look, act, or in any way resemble your mother. You’re warm, you smile, you talk, and you leave your house. You may be careful with what you eat, hell with your entire life, but you’re not sick.”

She looked over. “Thank you. For that. For showing up tonight and for letting me keep my sick relationship solid with my parents. Thank you. No one else comes through for me like you do. Why is that?”

“You don’t let a lot of people see the real Sarah. If they did, they’d come through for you, too.”

“No. They wouldn’t. You’re just kind and don’t seem to realize how much so. Cookie, Vanessa, Angie, me, you have this need to help us, save us, and protect us.”

“I thought you thought I was sex-seeking degenerate?”

She smiled finally. “I do. I’m just sorry I tried to alienate you for it. That is truly your business. I got it in my head your promiscuity somehow changed how kind and honest you are. I’m sorry for that.”

“My promiscuity? That’s somehow supposed to make me feel better? Sarah, I’m really not that bad. A few girls now and then. A good time on a Saturday night, doesn’t make me a bad guy, you know.”

“I know. I was apologizing for that.”

He laughed out loud. “That was the worst apology I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I am sorry.”

“Tell me, was it just me or was your brother afraid of me?”

“I didn’t notice that.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” Scott said his tone dry, “But he was. Why would that be?”

Sarah shrugged. “No idea. Adolescent moodiness I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Scott wondered if there wasn’t more there. More that answered a bunch of questions he had. More including Angie and her still unnamed father to her baby. But now wasn’t the time to enlighten Sarah over what he suspected. She’d had too much shock for one evening.

“What is your mother like?”

Scott jerked visibly at Sarah’s unexpected question. “Gone. My mother is gone.”

“When did she leave you?”

“Long time ago.”

“That was a totally useless answer.”

He sighed. Apparently since he’d delved into her family and her psyche, she felt the need to return the favor. “She left when I was ten.”

“The same year Vanessa showed up?”

“One and the same.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t see. There’s nothing deeper about it.”

“Why did she leave?”

Scott shrugged. He’d agonized over it for entirely too long in misguided, pubescent, self-doubt. “She wasn’t happy I guess.”

“There again, useless answer.”

“Okay. Okay. My dad was a real piece of work. Old school, he-man, she-woman, type. He was a Vietnam Vet, screwed up I guess you could say. Probably some kind of undiagnosed PTSD. My mom was only a teen when she got pregnant with my brother. And there she was living with my dad, who wasn’t exactly nice to her. I came along, a total accident. I think she stuck it out as long as she could.”

“But why did she have to leave you and your brother too?”

“Dad wouldn’t let her see us. I think she tried for a while, but gave up. Like I said he was pretty rough on her. Judgmental, narrow minded, hated all blacks, Jews, gays, anyone not like him. He yelled a lot, cussed a lot, was downright mean sometimes. He was an ignorant, redneck asshole. You would have hated him.”

“You loved him though.”

“I guess. He was still my dad. But like him? No. He mellowed out toward the end. My last years in high school, and before he died he wasn’t so bad. He was pretty decent to Vanessa after my brother took off, and he actually liked Angie. What Dad did for them was about the most decent thing he did in his life.”

“You’ve never heard from your mother?”

“No.”

“You never sought her out?”

“Once. After dad died. I tracked her to a little town in Maine. About as far from here as she could get, huh? I didn’t bother contacting her.”

“Maybe you should have.”

“Too late.”

“What about your brother?”

“He works on some oil rig in Texas last I heard. Real good old boy, my dad reincarnated, without the need to even attempt to do right by his kid. He took off on Vanessa before she even had Angie, and hasn’t been back here since.”

“It must have been hard on you, them leaving you.”

“It was. Yeah.”

“Is that part of why you’re so tolerant of Vanessa?”

He sighed. “Probably. Don’t go all Freud on me, okay? I know they left. I know I miss them. I know my mom leaving probably did something to me. But don’t, okay?”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

“Thanks.” They fell silent. Then they were both looking hard out the windshield as they passed by her car still parked alone and dark on the roadside. They glanced at each other. He accelerated his truck well over the speed limit. She shivered.

“What the hell are we going to do about your stalker?”

“Don’t call him that. It makes it seem worse.”

“It’s now worse, Sarah.”

She sighed. “Okay, it’s worse.”

“We’ll go by the police station, and then back to my house. No arguments, you’ll hyperventilate if you’re alone.”

“No argument about that. But I just want to go home. I’m tired and I can’t listen to Vanessa. I can’t be at her mercy. I’m not up for it, not tonight.”

“I won’t let her.”

She slumped in the seat. “No offense, but yes, you will. You’ll blame both of us. She embarrasses me, makes it seem as if I’m after you, while you blame me for not letting her use me as her flogging post. Not tonight.”

He hadn’t realized that he’d hurt her there too. Did he really do that?

“Okay. Your place, for tonight. Tomorrow you’re going to have to go somewhere for a while. You can’t keep ignoring this, thinking it’s a prank or that it’s over. It’s not until this guy is caught.”

“I see that now.”

“Good. At least you’re facing it finally.”

They arrived at her apartment safely. They had spent a long hour at the police station filing a report. A police unit was dispatched to her car and tomorrow they’d let her know if anything was found. Scott followed close behind Sarah as she climbed the stairs. She could feel his every movement, his presence behind her in distracting clarity. She unlocked her door, and turned on the light. Her apartment looked the same as when she left. Nothing was disturbed. She circled around it. There were no messages on her answering machine.

She turned and found Scott standing looking around. She felt completely out of sorts, and thrown off track by having him there. By the entire night’s events, and having Scott witness her life, her real life, and the real her.

Cookie had followed them up. Sarah scratched the dog’s ears glad for the reassuring warmth of her. She was pretty sure she loved the dog. A lot. As in wanted to keep her, not let Scott take her home. The dog was so soft and warm, big and clumsy, and her brown, beautiful eyes always seemed to fixate on Sarah with unadulterated adoration. It made her heart flip over the dog. Who wouldn’t for such loyalty?

Sarah glanced at Scott, and then away.
Scott had touched her
. He’d hugged her, held her hand, and later embraced her. He had always been so careful about not touching her, or acknowledging her as a woman. But tonight he’d finally touched her.

And now she felt what? Suddenly, strained and nervous with him, facing a night alone. Wanting...what? What did she want with Scott Delano? She was afraid to admit it, feel it, and afraid of the intensity she felt toward him. She was scared of how much she liked him, and was attracted to everything about him from his looks, his mannerisms, to his personality. Even his infuriating way of being the only person in her life to be there for her, no questions asked, while being blunt about what she needed to do for herself. She liked everything about Scott.

Except for the ease and casual disregard he treated women he slept with. And he’d treat her that way if she slept with him. So perhaps that’s why she couldn’t let her mind go there with Scott.

“You really know how to use that thing?”

Sarah blinked as Scott’s question finally made it through her distracted, intense thoughts. “Use what thing?”

“The sewing machine. I heard someone say you designed and sewed Kelly’s wedding dress.”

“I did. I do, sew, that is. Just sometimes.”

“You mean for fun? No reason? No profit, just for fun? A hobby?”

She smiled. “Yes. I guess as a hobby. It’s not that amazing.”

“Oh, yeah, it is. I know nothing about fashion or women’s clothes, but that dress Kelly had on looked pretty amazing. You sure you’re not a little more than hobby status?”

“I’m sure. There will be no Sarah Langston fashion line.”

He stared at her for a moment. Her face went hot under his gaze. “Was there a time a little Sarah dreamed of that?”

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t. I’m glad to see you could dream, be unpractical. You should try it more often.”

“You should try being more practical and become a professional singer and make the millions you could be making.”

He put his head back and laughed, teeth flashing at her. “That is the stupidest thing I could ever do.”

“I wasn’t being funny. I was being serious.”

“I can sing a karaoke song once in a while. Not exactly a life’s calling.”

“What I heard should have been a life’s calling.”

“You know my mom once dragged me to Portland and made me audition for this talent search. I made it. I won it. I hated it. I vowed no one would make me do it like that again. So it definitely wasn’t my life’s calling.”

“There is a lot I never guessed about you. How did you end up at Stillers?”

He shrugged. “Started the summer I graduated high school. My dad worked there, so I figured why the hell not? A job is a job. After Dad died, there was Vanessa and Angie so I kept on.”

“Do you support them?”

“Sort of. I mean Vanessa tries, she works, I’ve just always had the steady paycheck.”

“So yes, you do.”

He shook his head. “It’s not like I mind.”

“I know that too,” she said nearly sighing in disappointment. Vanessa won no matter what. “Do you like working there?”

“It’s fine. A good paycheck.”

“Well, you still should be a singer,” she said turning to head into her bedroom.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that in my next lifetime.”

She went into her bathroom and splashed water over her face, suddenly exhausted. It had been a roller coaster ride for her today. She felt like wilting. She grabbed the same pajamas she wore at Scott’s house and slipped them on. Too tired to care tonight. What he thought. What she thought. Or contemplate what she felt for him, or felt when she was with him.

She jumped when she found him leaning against her bedroom door jamb when she came out of her bathroom. He was frankly studying her bedroom, he glanced at her, meeting her gaze as his eyes slid down over her.

“Did you wear those for Brett too?” he asked. There was the start of a smile on his lips, his eyes twinkled.

She sniffed. “Yes. I did.”

“So you really aren’t sleeping with him?”

“Why would you say that?”

“No woman seducing a man wears kitty covered pajamas.”

“It takes these to prove it?”

“Yeah.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“No. They’re not that bad,” he finally said after looking her up and down for a moment.

“And Brett slept out on that couch for three nights without a complaint. He’s a movie star, and didn’t mind, so I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

Scott lifted a corner of his mouth. “Except, I’m not some pansy-ass movie star.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His gaze ran over her again, and then he shook his head. “Forget it. You’ve had a rough night. Go to sleep.”

He turned and left her bedroom. She didn’t know what to make of him. Had he just made a pass at her? No. No, not by these pajamas. But then, why did she desperately want him to? Why didn’t he even kind of
try
? Stupid man. She flounced down onto her bed and crawled under the covers, minutes later she fell asleep feeling safe and secure with Scott there. The unease she’d felt was gone, even though she’d been directly threatened that very day.

****

The shrill ring of the phone woke Sarah up. She automatically grabbed at the phone on her night stand.

“You left your purse in your car. I put it on your doorstep. Sweet dreams, Sarah.”

She screamed. She didn’t mean to. But she screamed as her senses came awake at the whispered voice, the chilling voice that now echoed in terrible monotony through her head.