I stopped, pressed the back strap of my shoe tighter in my hand, and waited to hear something. Maybe Sam would come out, accidentally bump into me, then we’d laugh, and I’d go to bed. But nothing. I took a cautious step forward. A tiny sliver of light filtered from the nightlight in the laundry room. Just enough to make my eyes adjust. I whispered, “Sam.”
I felt him take my hand and pull me inside the room. His body was firm against mine as he came closer. The shoes dropped from my hand as he cupped my chin and pressed his lips against mine. The palm of his other hand pulled me closer as his mouth parted and his warm tongue teased mine. My hands went directly to his hair, running my fingers through it. I even let out a small moan as he walked me backward to the wall. My back pressed against it. His chest was so firm…so hard.
“Daddy?”
Sam stopped almost instantly. His breath was hot on my face, as he didn’t back off from me quite as quickly. I could see almost nothing, but still tried to find something to focus on. His hands dropped from my shoulders and mine fell back to my sides. I straightened my posture and pulled down my dress. It’d seemed to have ridden up in all the frolic of this half-minute exercise in resilience.
“Yes?” he said, with a slight question mark at the end. It was 10:30, and she should’ve been on her third dream by now.
“I’m scared, Daddy. I think I heard something. Where are you?” She sounded not too far away.
“I’m here, sweetie. There’s nothing to be scared about. I’ll be right there. Go back to your room and I’ll come tuck you back in.”
He switched on a lamp that sat on the edge of his desk. I leaned down and picked up my shoes.
“I’m sorry, Sarah. I don’t know what came over me.” He ran his fingers through his hair. I could hear the rapidness in his breathing. “I heard you coming down the hall, and I…” He drew air. “I’ve actually been waiting up for you. I just wanted to—”
“That’s okay.” I looked from the shelves to the window, not knowing where to look, or how to feel at this particular time, and hoping he’d stop being so honest. Tingly things streamed through my body. My arms felt as though they’d been shot up with electricity. My heart was finally slowing to a beep that wouldn’t overload an EKG.
He sat on the edge of his desk, arms folded, one raised to his head, holding it at the temples. My eyes darted from him to more of his things inside the room. For some reason, I didn’t want him to catch me watching him. He finally rose slowly and walked toward me. He reached out and caressed my hair. His eyes looked sad.
“It’s just when I saw you dressed up tonight, leaving…for the second night in a row. To go to some other guy…” He lowered his hand and his gaze became intent. “I knew I wanted you to stay.”
My eyes broke from his trance, and I scoured everything on the wall behind him. Crown molding, brown paint, window trim. What was he saying exactly? And why did I still feel all noodle-like, without a spinal cord to hold me up?
“Sarah?” He snapped me back to attention by saying my name.
“What?” I barely croaked out.
“What are you thinking? I can’t tell. You’re not doing a lot of moving.”
My eyes scurried a bit before they settled on his. “I really couldn’t enjoy myself tonight on my date.”
A smile crept to his lips…his tasty lips. Like vanilla swirled in caramel lips.
“My thoughts replayed of you kissing me, of us dancing, of you building sandcastles with Sophie…” I stepped away from where he stood too close to me. Thinking rationally could not be done while I was having visions of his hands on my body.
“Sam, if this were different… If this were normal… If you were—”
He turned me around to face him. “If I weren’t older, isn’t that what you’re trying to say? If I didn’t have Sophie—”
My defense shield rose, along with a little arm hair. “Don’t you put words in my mouth, Sam. Sophie is amazing. And so are you. It’s just not what I was looking for. In any shape or fashion. I usually date men who still have their mothers wash their clothes, or they just wear it from the dirty clothes bin, in their unkempt apartments they can barely afford. Or now that I’m older and dipping my toe into dating someone my own age, the guys are divorced, with crazy ex-wives. And I soon get the picture of why, after about four dates. And that’s super not what I’m seeking, either.” My head tilted. “Did I mention that you’re coming off a long-term relationship? As in fresh off the commitment wagon? I’m not into getting my heart broken, Sam, or wasting time when you come around to knowing all you were looking for was something casual.”
“Don’t you get it, Sarah? Relationships…people you find yourself caring immensely for…don’t come in tidy checkboxes. They’re always tangled in some sort of mess or other. The question for you is do you have any interest in the box I come wrapped in?” He moved closer to me. “Yeah, I’m coming from a relationship that lasted a long time. Too long, in fact. It should’ve been over with a long time ago. I just took too long to recognize it was time to rip off the Band-Aid that had been holding it together. And the last thing I want is to hurt you. We’ve both been hurt. It’s not fun.” He took a baby step closer; his bedroom eyes began wearing me down. “Could you give this a chance to do whatever it’s going to do?” He laid his hand on my shoulder and pulled me ever so slightly toward him. “What it needs to do.”
I swallowed. My lips parted to speak, although I’m not sure what would’ve come out.
Sophie hollered again. “Daddy!”
“You better go. I’ve heard that scream before.”
He shook his head and removed his hand. “My stupid brother told her about a voodoo lady down in Mississippi who wards off spirits and collects bones.”
“Excuse me? And you let him?” I felt my brow raise.
“I didn’t let him finish. What can I say, Sarah? He’s like ten years old, trapped in a sixty-year-old body, without any moral compass or filter for how to talk to a child.”
“Poor thing. Go to her.” I pushed his shoulder.
He leaned in and kissed my lips gently. “I’ll be right back. Promise. Don’t go anywhere.”
My body jerked, suddenly aware why he would return. I was so unsure of everything. I needed a time-out to consider what I was doing exactly. This was so important. I felt like a contestant, waiting to give my final answer. Either I would win a million bucks and live happily ever after, or I’d give it up and wait to see what awaited behind door number two. For all my luck, it could be a beat-up sedan with the top felt missing, and it would drive me to a shack, where I’d live the rest of my life—hoping one day to afford a new set of teeth to woo a man to take me in and have mercy. Then again, I could meet my destiny tomorrow. Heck, I could’ve met him tonight. Andrew was awesome—had I not been thinking of Sam the entire evening.
“I’m really exhausted, Sam. Could we talk about this tomorrow?”
The ease of his expression tensed. “Tomorrow? I go to work tomorrow. Can’t we talk more tonight? Sophie will go back to sleep. Give me fifteen minutes, tops.”
I took a deep breath. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. Could you please give me until dinner to talk again?”
“Sure.” His shoulders fell; he did that half-smile and walked out. I fell against the desk and prayed one night would be enough to figure something out.
I had a nightmare Father Time was chasing me with a pen and paper half the night. At one time, I got up to find all my blankets shoved to the floor, and I was shivering. Lists scrambled in my head as I dozed every other hour. Pros and cons with Sam listed on each side of the chart. Physical chemistry—pro; great body—pro. Or was that considered chemistry, as well? I wasn’t sure, so it took up two places. It was different with Sam. I didn’t get the vibe he was just feeling me up, like he was in junior high. There was meaning behind his kiss, his hand on the small of my back, the warm breath on my neck. Where was I, again? Pro or con? I peeked out, thinking I’d see the
glare of a digital clock, and instead it was light filtering from the sides of the curtains.
I sprung up so fast I got light-headed. Sophie was on the edge of my bed, giggling.
“Soph! What time is it?”
The little girl with tangled hair shrugged. “I’m hungry, Sarah.”
“Okay, I’m on it. Let me splash some water on my face, figure out how late I am, and I’ll get you breakfast.” I pushed the covers back and stretched. Today was the day I needed to know what to tell Sam. Would there be kissing and little eye flirtations, or would a new level of weird be lurking around every corner, until I couldn’t take it anymore and went in search of that little shack to live?
I grabbed for my phone from the bedstand and pushed the button to check for messages. The first was from Sam. Good morning. It was difficult not coming in your room this morning. I love knowing I’m coming home to you tonight. Can’t wait.
Holy moly. I think my heart stuttered and sputtered a few times on that one. I grabbed my chest and I read it again just to make sure I wasn’t reading between the lines. Nope. I think he sounded sincere. Love knowing he’s coming home to me? Little ol’ me? I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. A smile perched on my face as though it was painted on.
Then there was the second message. This was from Andrew, the guy I ate dinner with. The extremely nice guy. The perfect guy I dated a million jerks to finally meet. With whom I would’ve jumped through burning, flaming hoops to have a second date with. Normally…pre-Sam, that is. Sarah, I had a great time. I hope to see you again soon. Please call if you feel the same way.
Are you kidding me? I took a deep breath, threw my phone on the bed, and shuffled to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a bit, Sophie. Meet me in the kitchen. I’ll make you some pancakes.”
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at a mess of a girl. A mess of a situation. My knees knocked when I read Sam’s message. A small smile spread when I read the other one. And I could’ve felt a little warm sensation in the pit of my stomach. After all, Andrew was such a twelve, on a one-to-ten chart. I beat my head with the palm of my hand. What a twist in my life of craziness. Knocking knees were good, right?
I looked at my watch. I had a list of things to do for the day. After I got Sophie to daycare, I was going to the college to meet someone from administration to discuss getting my certification for counseling. At least I knew that much about myself. After tons of lists of what to do, what not to do…what made me happy, and what I tested highest on in the Cosmo magazine, and then the Facebook quiz to really put validity to it, I realized I wanted to be a guidance counselor. Helping young children seemed to be at the heart of what made me happy. And the counselor I had in middle school, Mrs. Trumble, made all the difference of whether I was going to continue showing up each night to make dinner for my dad in our depressed home, trying to make things better, or thumb a ride with one of the cattle drivers who worked the route to Texas. She was amazing, and I kept up with her through my twenties.
“Grab your bag, honey. I’ll clean up this mess when I get home.” I pointed to Sophie’s Strawberry Shortcake bag.
I locked the door and we raced down the stairs to the car. I stopped abruptly and grabbed Sophie by the arm when I saw what waited for us. My car seemed to be sizzling. Steam rolled from the hood and trunk like a thick fog that settled after a cool rain on a hot day. There was a black trail of paint peeling where it hissed loudest, and foam settled on the edges of the bumper. “Stay back, Sophie.”
I grabbed my mouth and watched my car as it suffered from—what? I couldn’t understand was happening. Thoughts of my mom came to mind. This was her car, after all. One of the few things I had to remind me of her. My eyes darted to the area around where we stood. A tall iron fence separated Sam’s yard from the next-door neighbor. So far, I had never seen anyone go in or out of it. Maybe they were traveling. Or their evil son with the prison record had them all gagged in the coat closet, and I was next.
“What’s wrong with the car, Sarah? Why is it cooking?” Sophie tugged on me.
“I’m not sure.”
It couldn’t have just gotten that way. I looked up foolishly to see whether the crap that was eating it had fallen from somewhere. I still couldn’t imagine this happening in this upscale neighborhood. And there was the fact I had no enemies in the world who would want to do this to my poor car. This wasn’t an accident, right? I called my dad, hoping he’d know what to do.
“What? Your car is sizzling? Where are you, Sarah?”
“I’m at Sam’s house, Dad. It’s a pretty safe neighborhood, but they would’ve had to come past his gate to do this. I don’t understand.” I paced around the car, throwing up my hands. “It’s like a fajita on one of those plates we get at San Juan’s pub in Terktin.”
“Call the police. And get inside. Call me after making the police report. Sarah, I don’t like this. Now please call the police right now.”
“All right, Dad. I will. And don’t worry. I’m all right.”
I called the police and waited inside with Sophie. I rescheduled my appointment and put on something for Sophie to watch while I dealt with whatever this was. I went out the back door when I saw the police car pull up.
“Sarah?”
I looked up from where I was inspecting my car to see the guy I had dinner with. The guy, who, by any calculations I used to keep, was perfect. Not married, not actively sending me pics of his you-know-what, and most importantly, who was texting me good morning after not even getting a kiss goodnight.
“Andrew?”
Yes, I heard him mention he was in law enforcement, but I must’ve missed the actual cop word. As in could die at any given moment because a lunatic was feeling like a front-page picture was in order. That would make it on the con list, although I might reconsider, seeing how great he looked in a uniform.
“I didn’t realize you were a cop. I mean I heard you say—”
“Ma’am, is this your car?” asked the other man. He was tall, no nonsense written all over his pinched face, and the paper he carried looked crisp for notetaking.
“Yes, it is.”
He bent over and looked it over thoroughly.
“I didn’t realize you lived in a place like this.” Andrew looked up at the expanse of the brick sprawling up three floors high.
“I’m actually staying here. I don’t live here. That is to say, it’s not technically here that I live. Well sort of. For now,” I said, using air quotes. How does one babble and still look lucid enough to give a police statement?
“When did you discover your car like this? And who, if anyone, do you know would have a reason to do this?”
I switched my attention to Inspector Gadget and did that innocent look. “I just found it when I walked out to leave. And I don’t have any enemies that I can think of. I haven’t even lived in the city for an entire year.”
Enemies? Not unless you count Jason, the no-good turd who stole my U-Haul. I did submit a police report on him, but to avenge me would be foolish on his part. And after this long?
“It’s just a formality to ask you these things.” Andrew came and stood close to me. He rested his hand on his sidearm, and I noticed his white t-shirt peeking out at the top of his dark-blue uniform. “This doesn’t seem like the type of neighborhood that random people would go and pour battery acid. Who are you staying with? How well do you know them?”
“Battery acid?” I shook my head. “Sam Turner—he hired me to take care of his little girl.”
“Where is she? Is she all right?”
“Yeah, she’s up in the house watching television.”
I could tell he had that look, as if he now wondered who did he go out with. Nothing on my profile screamed out “homeland security risk,” and I didn’t really talk that much at dinner. I nodded a lot, and when he stopped talking, I summed up my dating resume. The usual, “I’ve done this, a little bit of that, I can cook, I have minored and majored in thirteen degrees,�
�� and no “I’m not married, and I have no crazy exes who might want to harm you in any way or still stalk me.” The normal language when dating from an Internet site.
We both turned when Sam’s car rolled up behind the police cruiser. He jumped out and ran up to my car. He stood there, staring a second, before he rushed over to me.
“Are you all right?” He took me by the arm, almost pushing poor Andrew out of the way.
“Yes, and Sophie’s in the house. She’s fine. I just found this when I walked out to leave.” I waited a second. “What are you doing home?”
His far-off stare snapped to me. “Carl Franklin, from across the street, called my secretary and said I had the police at my house.” He leaned forward, almost out of breath. Something you did after crossing a finish line, or something. “I thought something had happened to you or Sophie.”
“Do you have anyone, sir, who might want to do damage to your belongings? Perhaps they might’ve thought it was your car?” The tall man with the lanky fingers clicked back and forth the four-inch notebook he carried.
“Uh, no. No one.” His nostrils flared and his jaw clenched as he looked at my hissing car. “Sarah, I’ll handle this.” He turned toward the officers. “Thank you all for coming out. I appreciate your time.”
Andrew cocked an eye in my direction. “Sarah, do you want us to pursue this? You made the call. We can do up a report. If we get any leads, we can follow up on them.”
Sam’s brow crinkled. “Do you know this guy?”
Searching For Sarah (The Sarah Series Book 1) Page 12
