Take Care, Sara

by Lindy Zart

  Sara talked to Dana every other day. She made her laugh with her recollections of her marriage fiascos and her continuing search to find the thieving housekeeper at the motel. They both knew there wasn’t one. Dana’s employees were honest and trustworthy; it was just something to talk about and Dana was certainly a good storyteller. Even with the distance between them, they still had their coffee and doughnuts at eight on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays as they chatted about nothing of importance. The conversations were important; not the words spoken during them.

  The house she’d found to rent was red with tan trim, small, and filled with unpacked boxes and new furniture. It fit her and Sara felt a relief upon entering it she hadn’t known whether she’d feel or not. It was time to get back to herself; the new self that was living without Cole and able to do so. She would make this home hers and only hers; leaving the ghosts of the past where they needed to be, in the past, in the place in her heart designated to Cole and her parents and their unborn baby; to love and not mourn.

  Painting was easier and her finished art had more depth than it used to carry; the colors were bolder, and the peace she found didn’t fade as soon as she set the paintbrush down. Sara painted with her soul now. Every stroke of the paintbrush on canvas was a gift to those not with her; every painting a piece of her she would share with the world with joy and not sorrow or fear. Business was slow with her artwork at the moment; having been out of practice and contact with the art world for so long, but Sara was confident it would be steady again in time. Like her.

  On one such day, as she painted, her mind drifted to the day she’d seen the ‘C’ in the blue paint and thought it an omen from Cole. Maybe it had been, but maybe it had been in a way different from what she’d thought. Sara set the paintbrush down and tried to recollect the exact shape of the splatter on the floor. Could it have been an ‘L’? Even then, had he been telling her something? Had she seen a ‘C’ at the time because she’d had to see that or because it truly had been? Did she know it to be an ‘L’ now because she wanted it to be or because it always had been? An interesting concept. The letter ‘C’ and the letter ‘L’ could be quite similar, depending on the hand that wrote them. Or it could have simply been a splotch of paint.

  She’d bumped into Mason and his nephew one day at the park and had spent the afternoon swinging and playing with Derek; regaling Mason with tales of her Waupun adventure and Dana. He’d looked at her with contentment, knowing she was on the right path. It was because of him and Lincoln and so many other people, but most of all, it was because of Sara.

  As she now left the house, a warm breeze played with her hair. Sara gazed at the leafy green trees and grass as she walked, her destination filling her with apprehension and purpose. Lawnmowers whirred along in various yards, tossing the scent of freshly mowed grass in the air; kids shouted and squealed as they played. The sun was hot, warming her lightly suntanned skin. She’d loved Waupun, but she didn’t want to live there. Her home was here, in Boscobel. Her home was wherever was closest to Lincoln, even if not with Lincoln. Even if they couldn’t be together, even if he no longer wanted her, Sara wanted a part of him; she needed a part of him; even if only it was his friendship and nothing more. It would be enough. It had to be. But she hoped it wasn’t.

  She hadn’t heard Cole or seen anything unusual since she’d been in Waupun and had heard his final words of “Take care, Sara” in her mind. So maybe he was truly gone and that had been his final goodbye. That saddened her, but it also set her free in a way. Of course, maybe he’d never really been with her at all. But her mind, at least, she had needed him to be, for a while anyway.

  Sara walked through the rusted gate of the equally rusted fence, her skin prickling as she gazed at the land littered with tombstones. Giving a slight shudder, she walked toward his headstone. Sara had never liked cemeteries; they were filled with the dead and no matter where she stepped, she feared she was walking on a body. Graveyards made her feel like she was in another world; the land of the dead, where the dead were never really dead. Winds were cool and harsher here; shadows lengthened and darkened, and even when it was warm out, it was colder here. Sara didn’t want to think of Cole being in such a place, but this was where he was now, and so this was where she would talk to him. She knew it was only his body and not his soul buried beneath the ground—it wasn’t really him; Cole—but it was the closest she could physically get to him.

  It was the anniversary of the car wreck and also his birthday; September 1st. In a way he was born on the same day he died.

  The tombstone was rectangular and gray; simple. It read ‘Cole Walker – Beloved Son, Brother, and Husband’ with his date of birth and date of death. Where are you, Cole? Where are you now? Sara glanced around the empty cemetery, uneasily realizing she was the only living being here. It made her skin break out in goose bumps. She knelt on the uneven ground, searching for words to say, but nothing came to her. She’d made her peace with herself; she was trying to make her peace with God as well. And Cole.

  “I don’t know what to say. I know you’re not really here. I have to believe you’re somewhere better, or I won’t be able to do this. I won’t be okay unless I think that.” Sara’s knees became stiff the longer she crouched down beside the tombstone, but it didn’t matter. “I guess the reason I’m here…I guess what I came to say is…” Her eyes burned with unshed tears and the wind picked up, tousling her hair around her face as she stared at the stone she knew would be cold and smooth. “Goodbye. I came to say goodbye. Not to you, never to you, but to—“ Sara blinked and unlocked the tears. “To the life we had together,” she whispered, brushing the tears away with a trembling hand.

  The cold breeze abruptly stopped, a warm stillness taking its place. Sara smiled in spite of the tears, love and sorrow welling in her heart for the man she’d been blessed to have. She had to remember that; she had to be thankful for the time they’d had together, instead of thinking of the time they hadn’t gotten.

  “Goodbye, Cole,” she whispered, slowly standing. A collage of images, thoughts, and emotions pierced her as she stood; blue eyes, gruff laughter, warm hands, coffee and cherry Carmex, passion, tenderness, sadness, love. Sara took a deep breath and turned; all of it fading away at the sight that met her.

  Down the gravel path, standing just inside the fence, was Lincoln.

  Sara’s pulse jumped as her eyes caressed him. It had been almost three months since she’d seen him and it had been far too long. A day was too long. She wanted to run to him. Her feet even moved forward in anticipation. Hunger propelled her, though she had no idea what kind of reciprocation she would receive. His dark locks were disheveled and wavy; the way they should be, his gray eyes riveted to her; as she now knew they always were and always had been. Lincoln wore a black tee shirt that was tight against his toned frame and khaki shorts, his stance wary as she approached.

  Her stomach was swirling, her heart pounded at a scary rate, and she thought she’d pass out or go insane if she didn’t touch him. But he seemed so far away. Her fingers longed to smooth his furrowed brow, her lips wanted to feel the firm softness of his on them. She ached for him. Sara’s eyes devoured the sight of him. If it was all she had, if it was all she was allowed, then she would let her eyes take their fill and then some. She would stare at him until he faded from her view, and even then, she’d see him in her mind. Forever.

  “How did you know I would be here?” she gasped out, trying to catch her breath that was evading her. Sara self-consciously touched her dirt-smudged pink shorts and tugged at the white shirt she wore, knowing she looked horrid. She tried to smooth her thick hair down and then gave up. This was not how she’d wanted to look for their reunion after a month’s absence. It was also not the place she’d had in mind for it either.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh.” Something inside her deflated and Sara tore her gaze from his, feeling immediately empty. “Did you—did you know I was back? From…where I was?” She
glanced at his unreadable expression.

  “You know Boscobel. Everyone knows your business before you even do,” he said dryly. “I knew where you were, Sara,” he added softly.

  She frowned. “You did? How?”

  Lincoln sighed. “Do you really think I wouldn’t find out where you were going so I knew you’d be safe? So I knew you’d be okay?”

  “But…Spencer,” she said, realization dawning on her.

  “Having a cop for a friend can be good at times,” was all he said.

  “You two are okay? You and Spencer? You talked and everything?”

  Lincoln snorted. “Guys, talking? Guys don’t talk, Sara. We ridicule each other, toss back a couple beers, sometimes even throw a few punches, and move on.”

  “So did you then? Move on?”

  “Yep,” he replied shortly.

  “Good.” She exhaled. “I’m glad.”

  Sara studied his gray eyes, searching for something. Lincoln shifted his jaw and looked over her head, not letting her see in his face what he didn’t want her to. “Did you come to say hello or did you come to say goodbye?” He nodded toward the hill where Cole’s headstone resided.

  “I don’t…” She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Lincoln shook his head. “Nothing. You need a ride?”

  For the first time Sara noticed the Dodge truck alongside the road, parked haphazardly, as though he’d been in a hurry to park it. “Sure. I live on—“

  “I know where you live, Sara,” he interrupted darkly, turning and stalking to his vehicle.

  Sara followed, confused. It felt like her gut was shredded into millions of irreplaceable pieces. Like she was swallowing glass, or had had all the air stolen from her lungs. Even it was better than not being near him, not being able to gaze at his flawed perfection.

  The ride was tense, silent. She was only minutely surprised when he pulled the truck up to the right house. Lincoln’s body was wound tight, like a taut string. There was so much strength in that body, so much power. A tick in his jaw captured her attention and held it as she struggled for the right words to say. In the end, there were none.

  His voice was gravel when he said slowly, evenly, “Do you know…I wanted to tie you up so you couldn’t go? I seriously thought about it. Or I was going to kidnap you and lock you in my room until you saw reason. Only I figured Spencer might frown on that. Bad thing about having a cop for a friend,” he muttered.

  Sara inhaled sharply, knowing she should be disturbed by that declaration but found she was pleased instead.

  “And then the phone calls. God, those were torture. Sweet torture. I wanted to shout at you, plead with you, tell you how much I loved you. I wanted to get in my truck and go to Waupun and bring you home with me. I even thought about just going there and watching you; just to see you, just to know you were really okay. I have serious issues where you’re concerned.” Lincoln let his head thump against the steering wheel, his shoulders slumping.

  “I wanted to leave. I wanted to turn the car around before I even left Boscobel,” she quietly admitted. “But I had to go, Lincoln, otherwise I would have never known if I truly loved you or if you were just a crutch I leaned on in my time of need. I wouldn’t have known the depth of my feelings for you. I wouldn’t have been able to heal. I wouldn’t have known—“ she broke off, unable to continue.

  “What? What wouldn’t you have known?” he demanded, still not looking at her.

  “Do you hate me, Lincoln?” Sara blurted, mentally kicking herself at how weak she sounded, like she would die if he did. A part of her would, she knew that much.

  His head swung around, his features twisted in incredulity. “What?”

  She played with the hem of her shorts, her leg warm against her hand. “Do you hate me?”

  “Of all the stupid—no, I don’t hate you. Some days I wish I did. It would make all of this a hell of a lot easier. You think I can just turn my feelings for you off and on, like a switch? You think a month is sufficient enough time to forget you, to move on, to get you out of my system?” Lincoln leaned across the console, locking her in place with his stormy eyes. “I will never get over you, Sara, never.”

  Sara trembled as she stared at him, seeing the fire in his eyes, seeing the truth of his words in the set of his face. She was going to shatter if she didn’t tell him. Sara couldn’t keep the secret inside her any longer. He had to know. Lincoln had to know how she felt about him.

  “I love you,” she whispered brokenly.

  He froze, his expression turning to granite. Lincoln slowly turned his gaze away to stare out the windshield. His jaw shifted as he inhaled deeply. “Do you mean that?” Lincoln asked roughly, eyes still trained straight ahead.

  Sara wordlessly nodded, and then realizing he wasn’t looking at her, she reached for him. Her hand grasped his hard bicep and squeezed, needing him closer. With a groan, Lincoln grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him. “Tell me again,” he begged, burying his face into the crook of her neck, his fingers digging into her thighs, holding her like he feared she’d vanish if he released his grip on her. His body trembled and tenderness rushed through her.

  “I love you, Lincoln,” Sara said, her voice clear and strong. She cupped his sharp jawline in her hands, the rough texture of his unshaven skin tingling against her palms, their eyes so close she saw the gold in them; so close she saw the raw need in them. “I think I love your eyes the most. The color, the shape, even your long, thick eyelashes. They’re silver and gold and I see your soul in them and I see myself in them as well. I love the way they spark to life in anger and humor; the way they’re always locked on me, wherever I am. Like you’re afraid if you look away I’ll disappear or you’ll lose me. You won’t, you know,” she added softly.

  Lincoln swallowed. “Do you know how long I’ve longed to hear you say that?”

  “That I love your eyes?” she teased.

  “Yeah, that too. But that you love me?” Lincoln studied her face, his gaze searching.

  “A long time?”

  He took a shuddering breath. “You have no idea, Sara. None.”

  “You’re right. I don’t. But I’m here now. And I’m yours.”

  Their eyes locked. Sara felt the heat and hardness of his body beneath hers, the way the fiery warmth rolled off him and onto her, connecting them, intertwining them with desire and love; invisible tendrils sweeping through her and him, branding them as each other’s.

  The opened windows of the truck let balmy air blanket them, marginally cooling the heat of their skin. She fit perfectly to him; her body the missing puzzle piece to make Lincoln whole and vice versa. Sara placed her hands on his firm chest and felt his heart thunder beneath her palm, focusing on that. So many times she’d listen to Lincoln’s heartbeat and centered herself in the steady thrum of it.

  He threaded his fingers through hers, those smoky eyes never leaving hers as he declared, “You’re not leaving my sight for a very long time, not until I can convince myself you’re really here and mine, Sara. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to fully convince myself of those things, so get used to seeing me. A lot.”

  Lincoln’s lips captured hers before she could respond, possessing them, possessing her, telling her that she was his; telling her what she already knew. He tasted like sweetly tart lemons and sunshine and her future. The emotions coursed through her veins, pulsed through her heart, and slammed out of her with all the passion of her being. It was right; she and Lincoln; they were right. She and Cole had been right, but she and Lincoln were right as well. Cole was her past; a past she would never forget, would always hold on to, but Lincoln was her present; her future, and she would hold on to that just as tightly.

  ***

  Days and nights went by, turning into weeks. It was mid-September and it was still in the seventies during the day in Wisconsin. The nights cooled off considerably, letting Wisconsinites know the heat wouldn’t last much longer and to enjoy it while
they could. Sara and Lincoln had decided to do so by taking the pontoon boat out on the Mississippi river. Sand bars full of green foliage and trees littered either side of the vast, brown water, boats anchored near them; people and children milling in the water and sand, looking like colorful specs as they boated past.

  Lincoln’s eyes glinted silver in the sunlight as he shut the engine off in the middle of the river, jumping to his feet and reaching for her. He grabbed her hands, spinning her up and around as ‘Ho Hey’ by The Lumineers blasted from the boat radio. The pontoon boat gently swayed in the Mississippi river, the sun glared down at them. Sara laughed, feeling free in Lincoln’s arms. The scent of sunscreen lingered on her skin and his. His body was hot and hard against hers; desire flaring inside Sara with the smallest of touches from him.

  No matter how long she stared at him, how often she touched him; how long she was in his presence; it wasn’t enough. Sara was learning to rejoice in each minute spent with him, to live them to the fullest, because no one ever knew when it would be the last. Instead of being sad about it, she was blessed by each smile he gave her, each hug that was hers, each night spent in his arms. Sara would hold each moment close to her heart and treasure it, like this moment.

  He sang to her; his voice deep, slightly rough, and beautiful.

  Their faces were inches apart, brown eyes locked with gray. Sara smiled as Lincoln smiled, his fingers entangled with hers. “I love you,” she told him.

  Lincoln smiled a sweet smile, leaning his head down to kiss her. “I love you. Sometimes it’s hard to believe you love me back, finally. I’ve loved you for so long, so impossibly long. I thought that’s the way it would always be; me loving you, you being clueless.”