Max would call that Sadie-logic.
Her cell phone trilled, and she grabbed it, hoping it was him. But the number wasn’t Max’s. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. How are you?” Her mother’s voice was softer than her usual crisp, businesslike manner.
“I’m all right. How are you?”
“You know me. How was your dinner with Max the other night?”
“How did you...? You talked to him?”
“I wanted to make sure he’d found you before I called. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Did you have fun?”
“Oh, yeah. He looks so different.”
“Sexy, I’d say.”
“Mom!” Sadie giggled. “Seriously.”
“I might be old, but I’m not dead.”
Old? Her mother was barely fifty. Sometimes people mistook them for sisters.
“So, how was it? Did he take you someplace nice?”
Sadie described her meal with Max, leaving out the part where Max had told her he had feelings for her.
“Are you going to see him again?”
“Dinner tonight. He’s picking me up at six.”
“Oh, you should take him to Benny and Sal’s. I miss their pizza.”
“It’s closed, Mom. Flooded in the storm.”
“Oh. I didn’t think about that.”
Silence settled between them. Her mom cleared her throat. “And how’s the house?”
“Not...great. It’s not in a flood zone. I don’t have flood insurance.”
Her mother’s business-voice surfaced. “What about FEMA?”
“I filed a claim, but from what I hear, it will be a long time before I get any relief from them, and it won’t be much.”
Sadie heard a muted voice through the phone.
“Hold on a sec, hon.” Sadie could still make out the words that sounded like, “Tell him I’ll call him later.” The muted voice, again. Then, “This is important, too. It’s Sadie.” Another pause. Then, “Sorry about that.” Her mother must’ve lifted her hand from the phone’s speaker, because her voice was back to normal.
“No problem. How’s work?”
“The same. You know.” Mom had worked her way up from being a secretary to being the vice president of HR for a health insurance company.
Sadie must be such a disappointment.
“Anyway,” her mom continued, “tell me about the house.”
Sadie continued folding clothes while she talked. She hadn’t planned to tell her mother everything, but it felt good to have a listener. When she’d finished, her mother didn’t speak right away. Sadie chewed her lip while she waited.
“Do you think Max will say yes?” her mom finally asked.
“I don’t know. If he doesn’t, would you consider loaning me the money?”
Another few heartbeats of silence were followed by a sigh. “No, honey. You know, I’d do anything for you. But I just can’t support this thing you’re doing. I loved your father very much. I still do. But he’s never coming home.”
“You don’t know that. You can’t.”
“Sadie, if Dad could’ve come home, he would have, a long time ago. You have no idea how much he loved you. How much he loved me. He would never have stayed away this long if he could’ve helped it.”
Sadie’s fists balled around a sweater. “Believing that made it a lot easier for you to give up on him, huh?”
“I didn’t give up on him, honey. I went on with my life. I had to. I had to take care of you.”
“Don’t blame me. You moved away, pursued your career, left Grandma here to worry about him.”
“And he never came home. If he had, I’d have been there for him. Grandma understood—”
“Grandma never understood how you abandoned him the way you did.” Sadie’s voice rose.
“That’s not true. Grandma supported my decision to leave. She knew I had to make a living. And I didn’t abandon him, Sadie.” Her mother’s voice calmed as her words slowed. “He abandoned me.”
“You drove him away.”
Her mother sighed again.
The seconds ticked by while Sadie stared at the far wall through a haze of angry tears.
“Why do you think I drove him away?”
Sadie grabbed another item from the floor and folded it, making a mess of it and not caring. “I remember what happened that night. Dad and I were looking at the stars, and he was telling me a story. He got spooked, like he did sometimes. And then you two got into a big fight, and he left. If you hadn’t fought with him, he would have stayed.” As soon as the words were out, Sadie regretted them. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying...I shouldn’t have said that.”
“If it’s what you believe, then you should’ve said it a long time ago.” Her mother’s voice came through, quieter, more controlled. “Do you remember where you were when you and Dad were looking at the stars?”
Sadie thought back. She’d only been eight, and the details were fuzzy. “We had to have been in my bedroom, because we had a good view of the street. What difference does it make?”
“Think back, Sadie. Were you looking out your window?”
She squeezed her eyes closed, tried to remember. She and her father had been sitting side-by-side. She’d always had a nightstand in front of that window, so how could they have been looking out the window together?
“I don’t know. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“Your father talked you into climbing onto the roof. You two were sitting on the roof, looking at stars.”
Sadie sat on the floor beside the pile of clothes, remembering. The roof tiles had been wet from rain. The water had soaked through her pajamas and onto her skin. Her father had been talking about...flying. A sick feeling filled her stomach, and she wrapped her free arm across it.
“I left him alone with you for ten minutes, Sadie, and he dragged you out your window onto a wet, slick rooftop. And he was telling you that you could fly. That the two of you should fly away together.”
Sadie shook her head, swiped at the tears dripping off her chin. “No, he would never hurt me.”
“Of course not, not on purpose. But I couldn’t take the chance.” Her mother paused, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. “He trusted me. When we fought, it was because he’d seen the police car and the ambulance turning at the end of the block. I’d called them, because I wanted him to be hospitalized. I thought maybe with some meds he would come back to us.”
“You shouldn’t have called them.” Sadie had spoken in anger, but her words dropped into a deep well of pain.
“I had to. I couldn’t do both, protect him from the hospital while I protected you from him. It broke my heart, but I chose you.”
Sadie covered her mouth and sobbed silently.
“Sweetheart, I would do anything to fix this for you. I loved your father with everything I had. He was my best friend. We’d been together since ninth grade. Living without him—it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I had to think of you.”
“I need him, Mom.”
Her mother sniffed. “I tried to be enough for you, but I know you needed your daddy.”
Sadie brushed away her tears, cleared her throat, and squared her shoulders again. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I probably should have told you before. I just wanted to protect you, protect your memory of him.”
“It doesn’t change anything.”
Her mother uttered a short, humorless laugh. “I didn’t figure it would. You’re as stubborn as your father.”
“But you won’t loan me the money?”
“Sorry, honey. But you’ll always have a home here.”
Sadie ended the call and resumed packing. If Max didn’t come through, she would be out of options.
10
Max climbed to the front door of the house where Sadie was staying, his footfalls heavy on each step. He knocked, and a few seconds later, the door opened to Sadie beyond the screen, her red hair spilling
over her shoulders, her green eyes twinkling. All his worries from the last twenty-four hours, all his yearning since he was twelve years old, were for her.
“Hey,” she said. “I’m just about ready.”
Max opened the screen, placed his hands on either side of her face, and kissed her. A moment passed before he felt her shoulders relax, her lips soften.
Her hands started on his chest. She slid them up to his shoulders. Her fingers weaved in the hair on the back of his neck.
He pulled away, and a smile spread across her face. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Me, either.”
“For the love of Peter, Paul, and Mary, close the door.” A voice that sounded as though it had seen its share of whiskey and cigars called from the other room. “What were you, born in a barn or somethin’?”
Max stepped inside. “Sorry,” he called toward the voice.
Sadie grabbed his hand, pushed the heavy door closed with her foot, and pulled him down the hallway.
A bottle-blonde with a wrinkled face sat in a blue recliner with a cigarette in one hand, a beer can in the other.
“Marjorie, this is Max.”
Through a haze of smoke, she looked him up and down. “You’re right, he’s a looker. Good to meet’cha.”
Max glanced at Sadie, saw her cheeks turn pink, and smiled. “Nice to meet you, too.”
The woman nodded once and turned her attention back to the TV, which she’d paused on a rerun of a comedy. “Don’t forget your stuff, and don’t wake me when you get home.”
Sadie tugged on his hand and led him back to the front door.
“Your stuff?”
“Marjorie suggested you could help me with some of my things.”
His smile disappeared. “You’re not moving out tonight, right?”
“No, tomorrow. But I want to get started tonight. Do you mind?”
“’Course not.”
She led the way to the top of the stairs, where two suitcases sat in the short hallway. “I was going to bring them down, but I ran out of time.”
“No problem. I’ll get them.” He hefted the suitcases down the stairs, out the door, and into the trunk of his rental. “Is this all?”
It wasn’t. Apparently, Sadie had used part of her day to buy a mini-fridge and a space heater, which he loaded into the backseat without a word.
She slid into the passenger seat, and he climbed in to see her staring back at the little house.
“So why are we moving your stuff tonight?”
“She doesn’t have time to help me tomorrow, and I can’t drag all that stuff on the bus with me.”
“She seems sweet.”
Sadie chuckled. “She’s a little rough around the edges, but she saved me. It’s not like we were friends. She let me come over to ride out the storm, and when my house flooded...” Sadie shrugged. “What was she going to do, kick me out?”
“She’s kicking you out now.”
“It’s just a two-bedroom house, and her daughter’s coming home. It’s not her fault I don’t have any friends.” Sadie pasted on a smile. “It’s time for me to move home, anyway.”
Home. She considered that flooded place home. Not the house her mom owned back in New Hampshire on the street where they’d met.
He pulled away from the curb and turned around in a driveway. Her request for a loan silently filled the space between them. He could still taste her peppermint toothpaste on his lips, but all he could think about was the money she’d asked for.
Her white house came into view a few minutes later. Her face brightened. She’d do anything for the place. Great. He was competing with a house. And losing. He backed into the driveway. “I’ll get the bags if you’ll unlock the door.”
“Sure.” She climbed out and walked up the steps while he grabbed the suitcases.
Inside, she pointed to a spot in the hallway. “Just leave them there, and I’ll drag them up tomorrow.”
“Fat chance.” He nodded toward the steps. “Lead the way.”
She did, and he followed with a suitcase in each hand. At the top of the stairs, she indicated a bedroom down the short hall and on the right. “This one’s mine.”
He took in the pink bedspread, the white little-girl furniture, and the dancing ballerina wallpaper. When he looked at Sadie, she blushed.
“Mom decorated it when I was seven.”
“And you haven’t updated it?”
She shrugged and looked away. She was taking her decision to leave the house the way her father had last seen it a little too seriously.
“Where do you want these?”
She pointed at a space against the wall and near the bureau. “There’s fine.”
He set down the suitcases. Then he traced his finger along the wallpaper border. “I didn’t know you were a dancer.”
“I’m not. I was the worst ballerina in the city, believe me.” She looked around the space and then at the door. “You want to see the rest of the upstairs?”
He didn’t want a tour of any house that would keep them apart, but he wasn’t dumb enough to say that. “Sure.”
She showed him the room beside hers, another small space furnished with a queen-sized bed and a heavy dark bureau.
“This was my parents’ room when we all lived here. Well, Mom’s room. Dad wasn’t here much. When he was a kid, this was his room.”
Max noted again the lack of anything new. “OK.”
Sadie squeezed past him and led him to the third bedroom. “The master.”
This room hadn’t been updated in a half-century, except the photographs on the bureau. A picture of a little girl of about four with curly red hair and joyful green eyes sat in the place of honor. Sadie. Only today, her eyes held very little joy.
“You were adorable.”
Her eyebrows lifted. Her lips parted. She tilted her head to the side, and her hair fell across her face. She brushed it back and smiled. “I was adorable?”
Suddenly, he became very aware of the silence, the solitude, and the bed. He clapped his hands together once, the crack of it sounding loud between them. “Hungry?”
“Yup.” She headed down the stairs.
After he hauled the appliances to her bedroom—where she planned to do everything, including eat—they returned to the car. He followed her directions north toward an Italian place she’d never tried. He loved Italian. Did she remember that?
During the ride, Sadie sat with her hands folded together between her knees, her shoulders tensed. Except to tell him which way to turn, she didn’t speak.
He had to circle the block twice to find a parking spot. He rushed around to open her door, but she already stood on the curb. If they were to be in a relationship, she’d have to learn to wait for him. But they wouldn’t ever be in a relationship, would they? Not after tonight.
He took her hand and wished she wasn’t wearing gloves.
They walked silently into the restaurant. Seated at a booth in the back, they perused the menus. The silence weighed between them.
After the waiter took their orders—lasagna for him, lobster ravioli for her—she leaned forward. “I can’t stand it another minute, Max. Are you going to help me, or not?”
He held his hand across the table, palm up, and she put hers in it. “Sadie...” He faltered, started again. “I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve years old.”
She looked down at the table. When she looked back up, she was smiling. “You know, I never thought of you like that until this week.”
“I know. And I don’t need you to say anything. I just want you to know.” He nodded once, steeling his courage. “I would do anything for you, I would. But...”
She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. She blinked several times. Her eyes turned red and moist.
His heart raced. Father, please just let me...but he’d been begging God for the go-ahead to loan her the money all night and all day. As much as he wanted her back home, if he loaned her the mo
ney, their relationship would last. Long-distance was better than nothing.
But God had not agreed.
“Sadie, I prayed about it, and I know I’m not supposed to give you the money.”
“I’m not asking for a gift.”
“Loan. Whatever. I’m not supposed to—”
“Right. What happened? Did God tell you over dinner last night or something? Did He write you a note?”
“No. I just feel—”
“You feel like I’m wasting my life, like I’m letting my stupid Sadie-logic ruin me. And if I’d just go home like you want me to, then everything would be fine.”
“No. That’s not it. I do think you’re making a mistake, but—”
“But God told you not to help me. So this all-knowing God who’s supposed to be on my side is blocking me at every turn.”
“He knows what He’s doing.”
“Yes. He knows exactly what He’s doing. First”—she pointed her index finger toward the ceiling—“He took my father away from me. Then”—a second finger joined the first—“He sent this...this gigantic storm to blow half the East Coast away, just to get me out of my house—”
“That’s a little irrational—”
But her voice rose, and she talked over him, lifting fingers as she ticked off her complaints. “Then, He flooded the house, kicked me out of the home where I was living, made sure I didn’t have insurance, took away my job...” She fisted her hand and slammed it on the table. “And now He’s turned you against me.”
He leaned forward and grabbed the edge of the table. “I’m not against you. I’ll always be on your side.”
Sadie folded her hands together, squeezing until the knuckles paled. “Look, I get the dying on the cross part for eternity, but what about the here and now? Why won’t God ever do something nice for me? Why did He let—?”
“I know it’s hard to see what He’s doing sometimes, but you have to believe God is for you. Don’t you remember in Romans—?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”
The waiter returned with their meals. He set the plates in front of them as if he hadn’t heard them arguing. “Careful. The plates are hot.”
Faith House Page 6
