Indivisible Line

by Lorenz Font

  With her mind racing, Sarah ran back to the window and looked out. Given a different set of circumstances, she would have been gawking at the grandiose view which greeted her, but nothing in her current predicament could be considered grand. Not even the tall skyscrapers or the beautiful skyline dotting the magnificent tapestry could distract her.

  Where am I? She had been kidnapped—taken against her will and held as a prisoner in this beautiful nightmare. No exit here, she thought after studying the seamless window.

  Sarah scurried across the room, grabbed the golden doorknob, and twisted. Relief washed over her when it opened. She could slip out of the room and hide somewhere until the coast was clear, and then she’d run for the front door as fast as possible. With that small plan in place, she poked her head out. Discovering a man standing across the hallway from her door, she recoiled in an instant, slamming the door shut just as he looked up.

  Dotson’Sa, why have you forsaken me? The question ran in her mind, but she was unable to utter the insolent words. Still, she was trapped. That pretty much summed up her situation.

  She darted to another door and opened it with trembling hands. It wasn’t another exit. Instead, she found herself staring into a bathroom straight from Architectural Digest. Fear crept up her spine, but she took a few tentative steps toward the marble sink.

  I’m going to be sick! Panic made her stomach start roiling. Turning the brass spigot, she let the running water flow to drown her sobs.

  After a few minutes of dry heaves, Sarah rinsed her mouth and glanced up. In the mirror’s reflection, she could see the window behind her. It was small, too small to even fit a young child. There was no way out for her except the front door, and getting there would be tough with the guard standing outside.

  Sarah walked back to the bedroom and slumped onto the bed. “At least I’m alive for now.” She uttered the words aloud to convince herself how lucky she was. Alive and trapped in a nightmare.

  Replaying what Matilda had said earlier, she knew she could get her answers from this Mr. Andrews. She would be happy to have breakfast with him if she’d get her freedom in return. It might have been naïve of her to think this way, but she had to believe her abductor possessed a good heart. Regardless, even if she had to grovel and beg, she’d do anything necessary to reclaim her liberty. But before she got ahead of herself, she still needed answers. Who and what was behind her abduction?

  With her mind made up on how to approach the situation, she decided to get a quick shower. After the much-needed physical cleansing, which also cleared her mind and added an ounce of self-confidence, she proceeded to check on the clothes Matilda had shown her. When you had very little, choosing was easy. Presented now with a closet filled with name-brand outfits and gorgeous clothes, Sarah found that selecting what to wear had become an enormous task. Her limited knowledge of fashion trends made her cringe while she touched every fabric.

  Whoever had selected these clothes had no idea what kind of person she was. Most of the items were dresses, which she never wore. In Beaver, all that was required were jeans, Tshirts, and thick jackets. The only times she wore dresses was for weddings and funerals. Scowling, she pulled on a lavender sweater with exquisite beading down the front, tan slacks, and brown sandals. She walked to the full-length mirror and stared at her reflection. Although she liked her appearance, she hated the sense of dread that now descended upon her. How convenient for her to be able to look good before she was fed to the wolves. Doubtless, Mr. Andrews was the head of the pack.

  Sarah put her hair into a tight bun, and then took a tube of lip balm from the bathroom drawer, applying a little to her lips. Leaving her face untouched by make-up, she felt as ready as she’d ever be and opened the bedroom door.

  “Good morning, Ms. Jones,” the man in the hallway greeted her.

  She stared at him, not knowing what to say.

  “Ready for breakfast?”

  He didn’t wait for a response but gestured for her to follow him. The long hallway seemed to be where most of the bedrooms were situated. There had to be about five, including hers, if her observation was precise. Judging from the intricate moldings and expensive lighting fixtures, the place had been put together by someone with expensive taste and a boatload of money and resources.

  Trying hard not to let the strange surroundings intimidate her, Sarah followed her tour guide closely. They walked toward an open space that could have spanned the size of a half basketball court. Big, tastefully decorated, and terribly daunting, this section included a formal dining room and adjoining living room. Sarah had never seen the likes of a house such as this one. When they turned to a smaller room, she saw Matilda again, standing by the corner and smiling in a maternal way. Her guide stopped next to the older woman, and she held out a cup for him.

  “Good morning, Ms. Jones.” Matilda dipped her head in a manner that seemed calculated to put Sarah at ease.

  “Uh … hello.” Sarah was tongue-tied, and articulating a response proved difficult. With a knot twisting inside her stomach, she focused on the man seated at the head of the table, whose back was turned to her.

  Mr. Andrews.

  Sarah stopped in her tracks a few feet behind him, vacillating between several things while she tried to decide what to do next. Should she sit down, smack Mr. Andrews in the head, or run for the door? She was still deliberating when Mr. Andrews threw down the newspaper he’d been reading and turned around to face her.

  Gunshot wounds never deterred her and complicated exams failed to give her pause, but in that particular moment, she felt her heart jump straight out of her chest.

  “You!” Blood rushed to her face from the sudden fury that engulfed her.

  “Yes, and good morning to you, Ms. Sarah Jones. Let me introduce myself. I’m Greg Andrews.” He didn’t offer his hand nor did he get up from the chair. Instead, he regarded her with an amused expression while he raked his gaze over her from head to toe and back to her face. His tone was smooth, but his jaw clenched for a few seconds, making her think she’d imagined a smile in there somewhere. “Please have a seat and join me.”

  His noncommittal tone infuriated her. “Care to explain what this kidnapping is all about?” Her eyes flashed with anger.

  Matilda gasped at the accusation. Greg signaled for privacy, and the other man hurried to escort the older woman out of the room. Greg watched them with a wry expression before turning his attention to Sarah.

  “Sit.” It sounded more like an order than a request.

  Sarah couldn’t help the fire burning inside her. “You don’t kidnap someone and order them around,” she snapped and trying to move back to the door.

  “Don’t leave.” He hastily rose to his feet to follow her.

  She didn’t look back, breaking into a run. Concentrating on locating the exit, her steps halted when a loud crash sounded, followed by muttered curses. Sarah wheeled around and found Greg on the floor, clutching at his right leg.

  Instinct told her this was the perfect chance to get away. She turned around again, eyeing the front door. Although she wanted to run, she just didn’t have the heart to abandon a person who appeared hurt. “Darn it.” She gritted her teeth and pivoted in time to see him struggling to stand. What was with the Florence Nightingale syndrome? Sarah hesitated, looking toward what she believed to be the door that would lead her to her freedom, and then back to Greg on the floor.

  Her blasted inherent need to nurture got the best of her, and she ran back to his aid. By that point, Greg had already hoisted his body up with the help of a cane.

  “Let me help you.” Sarah took his free arm, but he shook her off.

  “Don’t touch me. God knows you’ve created enough problems for me.”

  Sarah stepped back, appalled by the allegation. “I created problems for you?” she repeated.

  “You messed me up real bad.” He took a few shaky steps, pulled up a chair, and lowered his body onto it.

  “It seems to me that I sa
ved your life,” she spat, incredulous.

  “And I’m going to thank you for that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you had no idea what you were doing. Playing doctor.” The last words were muttered as if he didn’t want her to hear them, except she did.

  “Playing doctor?”

  “That’s what you did. You removed the bullet, sewed me up like a doll, and exposed me to numerous conditions that allowed infection to set in. You also performed a blood transfusion that has created one side-effect after another.” Greg pointed to his leg with disdain.

  His words hit her like a ton of bricks, and Sarah slumped onto the chair across from him. She had done what she could. “I’m sorry.” The quivering in her voice triggered a floodgate of tears. Sarah cupped her face in shame while tears poured out in a relentless burst.

  Greg didn’t move or say anything. Sarah sensed him shifting in his seat several times while the pressure of the past month came down on her—hard. She’d meant well. She had just wanted to help. Snatching a table napkin, she wiped her face. Greg remained quiet, and she realized he’d been watching her.

  Sarah spoke again once she’d gotten her frazzled nerves in check. She looked up and met his gaze squarely. “Is this why you had me kidnapped? So you can rub my mistakes in my face? Punish me?”

  He seemed to consider her question before answering. “It’s one of my reasons.”

  She angled her body toward him. “What are the others? You want to throw me in jail?”

  “I thought about it, but what good would it do me?” Greg’s lips thinned, and without giving her a chance to answer, he added, “I have other things in mind as compensation for your poor judgment.”

  “This is blackmail. I can sue you for kidnapping, Mr. Andrews.” She shook her fist at him, but he just shrugged his shoulders in response.

  “Sue me? With what money, Sarah? Last I checked, you’d been driven away from your home. You have no money, no place to stay, and no other means to pull your life together.” He cocked an eyebrow. “As far as I can tell, no one has even missed you yet.”

  That might have been true, but he had no right to sling the unfortunate details of her life at her. Sarah stood, refusing to listen anymore. “You have no right to talk to me this way, Mr. Andrews. If you want to put me in jail, go ahead.” She brought her arms together and turned them around, her wrists facing him.

  “No jail time for a girl like you. I have other things in mind.” He smiled.

  Right then, she hated everything about the man whose life she’d saved. Maybe Ahila had been right after all. She’d had no idea what she was doing.

  Chapter 7

  “You can’t force me to do anything.” Sarah glared at him. “If you want to sue me, go right ahead.”

  Greg smirked. “Aside from taking you from LA, all decisions from this point on will be yours to make.” He regarded her intently, appreciating the girl’s spirit and spunk. It didn’t hurt that she looked much more beautiful in person than she had in the picture the private investigator had taken.

  “How kind of you to consider my feelings.” She raised her chin in defiance. “Although taking is a misleading term. You kidnapped me, Mr. Andrews. Just so we’re clear on that particular subject.”

  “Call me Greg.” He sighed, ignoring her scathing accusation. “Do you want to hear the terms?”

  “Terms? How arrogant of you to offer me terms.” The fire was back in her eyes, and they smoldered with unconcealed hatred.

  “I will lay them out. It’s up to you to accept, but I doubt you’ll be able to resist. There are many things you need right now. If you ever want to graduate, you’ll agree to my proposal. Saying no to my offer will delay”—he paused and smiled—“if not altogether derail, your plans.”

  He couldn’t help adding that little threat. Sarah was a smart woman—academically, at least. Any simple-minded person would be certain to consider the terms first before declining. She must know how difficult it could get during the last year of med school, even if she’d had a boatload of money. Without financial support, the experience could be arduous, desperate, and frightening. He was about to offer the answer to all her troubles.

  Greg stared at Sarah while she chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. He observed her every movement—the comical way she gritted her teeth in frustration, and how her gorgeous eyes watched him while she weighed his words. The girl seemed fidgety, which added to his internal enjoyment. He chuckled to himself.

  Sarah stood after a few moments and walked over to the big picture window in the adjoining living room. Greg gathered his cane and followed her, stopping a few feet away to wait. The tension emanating from her was palpable and almost electric. He stifled the urge to touch and soothe her.

  She pivoted around. “What are the terms?”

  “Why don’t we sit down? I’m afraid my legs won’t support me for a long time.” Greg gestured to the leather sofa and, without waiting for her answer, plopped himself down.

  Again, he waited for her to decide what she wanted to do. After a minute, she sat on the sofa across from him—as far away as possible, he noted.

  Greg took that as permission to continue. “Okay. Since the rather rudimentary approach you took with the surgery, I’ve had recurring side-effects and pain in my stomach. The muscle spasms come and go, but most happen while I’m up and about. I also have aches and pains that inhibit my ability to engage in normal activities, such as going to work, attending my therapy sessions, and sometimes, even taking my medications.”

  “You need a nurse,” she blurted.

  “Those were the exact words my doctor used.” Greg paused, making sure he said the right things that would bait her enough to agree. “This is where you come in. You’ll be helping me get some work done when you’re available, and going to my appoint—”

  “Whoa! Whoa! Stop right there. I’m not a nurse. You’re not thinking that I will agree to this.” Her eyes morphed into slits, her anger blazing.

  “You have no other choice. Plus, the pay and the other perks are going to be worth your trouble.” Greg willed his voice to stay calm and even while he tried to make sure the prospect sounded as palatable as possible—an offer she’d find difficult to refuse.

  “You’re going to pay me?” Disbelief crossed her face. Sarah stood and began pacing.

  “Yes, and I scheduled your classes around my own schedule. You’ll attend school in the evening. And in the mornings, while I work, you can study if I don’t need any help. You can earn your keep here by helping me out. Whatever else that’s left will be your salary. You need not be concerned about your education being interrupted. Your tuition will be paid, and you will have a place to stay. It’ll solve all your concerns, while paying me back for the mistakes you made.”

  Sarah stopped walking and raised her chin. It was obvious that she hated the word mistake as much as he did, but he’d never admit it. She narrowed her eyes. “Why are you doing this? There are better ways to spend your money and more competent people out there to help you.”

  “Perhaps I just want you close to me in case the doctors have questions regarding the incompetent emergency procedure you performed. Besides, I want your blood tested. It would be a big help in identifying the causes of my side-effects.” He met her gaze without wavering.

  “And if I say no?”

  Greg replied without hesitation. “That’s when I take you to jail and file charges against you.”

  Gray eyes grew wide, and her nostrils flared. Greg restrained himself from reacting to her amusing display of resentment. This was too much fun to let go. Though he hadn’t intended to let things get this far, the girl was making it hard for him to take no for an answer. If anything, he wanted her close, but not for the reasons he’d given her.

  He wanted to hate her for what she had done, but he couldn’t. Greg owed her his life. She had risked the wrath of her father and faced banishment in order to save him. The least he could do was to try to help her out.

&
nbsp; “You’re not playing fair.” She began to pace again.

  “I told you. You’re better off accepting my terms.” He gave her a fleeting look. “You’ll be able to finish school and get a license to practice real medicine.”

  “My friend Cheryl will be looking for me,” Sarah proclaimed in triumph, not realizing this was something he’d already taken into consideration.

  Greg smiled at her subtle warning. “I took care of that small detail, too.”

  Sarah crossed the room in a blink of an eye and loomed over him. Glaring down at him, her eyes flashed with deep rage. “What did you do?”

  Unperturbed, his lips curved into a smile. “I sent a note, signed by you, stating your father had collected you from the university and was taking you back home to Beaver.”

  He watched Sarah’s face turn crimson before she lunged at him.

  “You’re despicable!” she screamed and started hitting him on the chest.

  With the limited movement he could make, he managed to avoid her next punch, grabbed one arm, and twisted enough for her to stop for a moment. Sarah fell next to him and shrieked before she began hitting him again. This time she did the deed with angry fervor.

  “You rich people think you can just manipulate us, huh?”

  “Sarah, stop it. I’m putting my money to good use here. Making sure a future doctor of America will learn what she needs to know.”

  “You dare insult me, too?” She kept hitting him.

  He seized both her arms, despite the hits he’d been taking from her. No doubt blinded by anger, Sarah squirmed and jumped on him, using strength he didn’t expect her to possess. She straddled his waist with her legs and started slapping him, tears pouring out of her eyes in torrents while she struck at him with undisputable fury.

  He howled before she stopped.

  “Greg, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you.” Sarah scrambled to her feet when he doubled over, clutching his stomach.