by Francis Ray
“We can’t afford to remodel the bathroom.” Kara reached for an apron. “What would you like?”
Her mouth tight, she looked up at Kara. “An omelet since I missed breakfast yesterday. I got up so you wouldn’t have to fix my tray.”
And to take another dig at Kara, and put in another request for a whirlpool. Her mother was back full force. Kara pulled a mixing bowl from beneath the cabinet. One day, she thought as she cracked eggs, chopped ham, diced tomatoes, and onions, I’ll be free.
* * *
Kara had barely pulled out of the driveway before the phone rang. “Hello.”
“Good morning, Kara.”
Tristan. Her hand gripped the phone. For some odd reason his voice made her teary, perhaps because he and his mother reminded her of how lacking her relationship with her own mother was, how gently he’d touched Kara.
“Kara? Are you all right?”
No. “Yes, I’m sorry. Good morning.”
There was a slight pause. “You haven’t changed your mind about letting me help you promote your paintings, have you?”
“No,” she said, then inwardly winced at the desperation in her voice.
“It’ll be all right. You have talent, and we’re going to show the world.”
Swallowing, she pulled through the stop sign. He wanted to reassure her. His voice soothed her, stroked her. She was sure if he had been there he would have given her a hug. Against her better judgment, she wished he was. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said, his voice stroking her in an entirely different way.
Kara moistened her dry lips. Tristan was getting to her despite her efforts.
“Vera called back last night with an idea to get your work out there even more,” he said. “She wants to use your paintings in a million-dollar spec home she’s been asked to decorate.”
“What!” Kara screeched, her hand clenching the phone.
“Exciting, isn’t it?” he said, laughter in his voice. “When Mother likes something, it’s full speed ahead. She’s selecting pieces from several interior design studios, but she wants your art.”
Kara took the exit ramp to Haskell, her excitement building once the initial fear had disappeared. “Which paintings? They need to be framed.” She hadn’t had the money or the time or the belief in herself that she could sell her work. “I can go by Fred’s house this afternoon to look at the woods I have.”
“You framed them too?” he asked, surprise and awe in his voice.
“I wanted to see how different woods, stains, and molding types looked, plus it was cheaper. Fred’s grandson is the manager of a lumberyard and he sells me the wood at a discount and then I frame them at a craft store in Uptown Village.”
“A true Renaissance woman. You probably already know that Van Gogh, Degas, and Eakins made their own frames. I’ll meet you over there to pick up the material and you can frame them at my place. It will keep you from taking the pictures back and forth and risking damage to them. You tell me what you need, including what’s at the craft store, and I’ll put everything in the room with the paintings,” he offered.
“What?”
He repeated his offer. “It makes sense.”
The wooden bar lifted in the employee parking lot and she pulled through the gate. “I can’t let you do that.”
“I’d like to get some photos of your work and start blogging. They’d come off better framed. It would certainly be easier working at my place.”
Easier, but definitely more dangerous and Tristan was smart enough to know it. She pulled into a parking space and shut off the engine. “Just business?”
“Whatever you say,” he agreed.
Kara frowned. He’d agreed much too quickly. “But you plan to try and change my mind, don’t you?”
“Yep,” he said, laughter in his voice. “But I’ll respect a no.”
That was as good as she could hope for. “I can’t tonight. It will have to be tomorrow. My mother isn’t feeling well.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, thank you. I’ll call Fred and let you know what time to meet me there.” Getting out of the car, she started for the crosswalk.
“Tomorrow night might be better for me too. I just arrived at my current project and the first days are always long.”
“You doing another article?” She stopped on the sidewalk.
“Another house,” he said. “I rehab homes. I caught the bug when I did an article on how to make a home look lux for a fraction of the cost. I like doing different things. I bore easily. At least with some things,” he quickly added.
Kara could just imagine one of those things was women. “I see.”
“If we finish transporting everything early enough tomorrow night, I thought we might go to dinner and afterward a gallery opening. Some important people will be there.”
“I don’t have a thing to wear,” she blurted. Her eyes widened at the admission. She barely kept from slapping her hand over her mouth.
“Whatever you wear, you’ll look fantastic.”
She smiled at the compliment, but she had to be sensible. Tristan wanted more than to help her with her paintings. “Can I think about it and let you know later?”
“Sure.” He sounded disappointed. “One of the workers just walked in. Talk to you later. Bye.”
Kara disconnected the call and went inside the hospital. She should have insisted she frame the pictures at Fred’s house, but Tristan was right about the possibility of damaging them while taking them back and forth, and it would be easier and faster if everything was all in one place. She just had to remember Tristan was off-limits.
Thus far, she wasn’t doing a very good job. Her crack about clothes proved as much. Unlike her mother, she didn’t obsess about clothes. There were more important things to think about, like the house payment, food, utility bills. With Burt, she certainly hadn’t worried about what she’d wear.
Waving to a coworker, Kara went inside her office. Tristan was too smart not to have realized what her comment meant. Thinking about Tristan as more than a business associate was a mistake, but she seemed to be heading in that direction.
She turned to look at the last painting of her father. “Daddy, I think I’m in trouble.”
* * *
Several hours later, Kara was more than ready to call an end to a horrible day. Nothing had gone smoothly since she’d walked into the hospital. One family had even called her supervisor to complain that she hadn’t worked hard enough to find them a nursing home. It had all boiled down to them wanting Kara to find a more luxurious accommodation that someone else paid for. Most days she enjoyed her job.
Not today.
A knock sounded on her door. She was tempted not to answer it. “Come in.”
Sabrina breezed in with the happy smile she’d been wearing more and more since she’d decided to go after Dr. Mathis. She took one look at Kara and quickly rounded her desk. “Tristan, your mother, the job, life?”
“How about all four?” Kara answered.
Sabrina sat on the corner of her desk. “I have ten minutes.”
“Mama and the job aren’t going to change. Life is life.”
“So that leaves the yummy Tristan. Talk.”
Kara leaned back in her chair and told Sabrina what had happened after Kara had come home from church. “Mama doesn’t trust him. Tristan admits he wants a sexual relationship. The bad thing is that no matter how hard I try, if I’m honest, I’m attracted to him. I just don’t want to make a fool of myself, especially with Mama ready to tell me I told you so.” Kara’s hand closed around the bottle of water on her desk. “Going over there every night to frame my paintings isn’t wise.”
Sabrina put her hand on her best friend’s tense shoulder. “I wish I could give you the answer. I tend to jump first and look later.”
“You aren’t afraid to go after what you want.” Kara leaned forward and propped her arms on her
desk. “Tristan asked me to dinner and a gallery opening tomorrow night. I want to go, but—”
“But nothing.” Sabrina cut her off. “You’re going.”
“I don’t have anything to wear,” Kara confessed. “Mama has maxed out the charge accounts already, but even if she hadn’t I wouldn’t waste any of the money he paid me or use my emergency credit card on a new outfit.”
“Buying an outfit that makes you feel and look good is not wasteful.” Sabrina stood. “I’d buy the dress for you myself if I didn’t already know how stubborn you can be.”
Kara adamantly shook her head. “No, I’m not borrowing money from you.”
“Who said anything about borrowing? It’s my gift for all the times you’ve fed me.” Sabrina folded her arms. “I wouldn’t have the great house I live in if not for you. You helped me hang curtains when I was lost. I have a beautiful yard because you introduced me to Fred. I could go on, but my break is almost over.”
“You’re a friend.”
“Exactly. Friends are there for each other. There’s a boutique near here that has some beautiful things and they’re having a sale.” Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I went by there yesterday. They had this sexy white halter sundress I almost bought, but it wouldn’t look right with a short jacket or sweater.”
It wasn’t often Kara thought of the scars on Sabrina’s upper body. Like everything else, Sabrina saw the burns as an inconvenience, not as an excuse to be bitter. “I wish I had your outlook on life.”
Sabrina shook her head. “And I wish I had your patience. Now, back to the dress to make Tristan drop to his knees and beg for mercy.”
A picture of Tristan on his knees flashed through her mind, but she was the one begging for mercy. She flushed, tucked her head.
Sabrina lifted a brow. “Did I miss something?”
“Just thinking,” Kara said. “I’ll wear what I have.”
“Kara, why don’t we just go look?”
“No. Thank you,” Kara said firmly, afraid she’d weaken. Sabrina was very persuasive. “Tristan is business and I want to keep it that way. It doesn’t matter what I wear, it’s the paintings that matter.”
Sabrina made a face. “You’re going to kick yourself ten seconds after the store closes tomorrow at six.”
“Probably, but Tristan will have to take me as I am,” she said.
“From what you’ve said, he’s ready to take you any way he can,” Sabrina said teasingly, and laughed out loud at Kara’s blush. “All right, but if you change your mind, call me.”
“Thanks, but I won’t.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.” As soon as the door closed, Kara picked up the phone and called Tristan.
“Tristan.”
Kara rubbed her jittery stomach. She wasn’t sure if it was the sound of his strong voice or what was at stake that had her nervous. “If the offer for dinner and the gallery opening is still open, I accept. Fred says he’ll be at home after four so we can pick up the wood.”
“Give me his number and I’ll send someone to pick the material up so you can go home after work tomorrow to check on your mother,” he said.
He was a quick thinker, and thoughtful. She gave him the number.
“I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow night. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” Kara hung up the phone and bit her lower lip. Had he sounded impatient? She recalled his earlier words that he became bored easily. Had he already become tired of her? She chastised herself. She wasn’t going to do this to herself. He was probably busy.
* * *
Kara opened the back door of her mother’s house a little after five Monday afternoon. She’d debated all the way home whether to tell her mother about working with Tristan. She finally came to the conclusion that it was cowardly not to. Besides, how was she going to explain being away from home every afternoon for a couple of hours? However, she was not mentioning the check.
Turning on the oven, she went to check on her mother and change before cooking dinner. Her bedroom door was ajar. Kara heard her mother laughing.
Kara pushed the door open farther. Her mother was reclining on the lift chair eating ice cream off her best china. “Hello, Mama. Glad you’re feeling better.”
She jumped, almost dropping the bowl. She looked at Kara with annoyance. “You scared me. You’re home early.”
“I wanted to check on you,” Kara said. “It’s good seeing you’re all right. After tonight, I’ll be working on framing my paintings in the evenings.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “You still have too many things around the house to start painting again.”
“I won’t have to,” Kara said, taking a certain amount of pleasure in the announcement. “Tristan returned the paintings to me. He’s going to help me sell them.”
Her mother straightened. “How much?”
The greed in her mother’s eyes didn’t surprise her. “I’m not sure. We’re going to a gallery opening tomorrow night.”
“Don’t look at that pretty face of his and get taken,” her mother warned. “For once, be smart like me and not gullible like your father. Gallery means money.”
To her mother, it always came down to money. “I’ll go fix dinner.”
* * *
Sabrina had anxiously waited almost forty-eight hours for this moment. She’d missed Cade when he made rounds Monday evening, but today, Tuesday, would be different. She adjusted the collar of her crisp new coral blouse, adjusted the twisted coral necklace, checked her makeup, smiled, then left the bathroom across the hall from her office. It was after six and Cade was in the hospital making evening rounds. She’d asked the charge nurse to notify her when he arrived because she needed to discuss one of their patients.
She stepped on the elevator, smiling and greeting people. She was aware she probably had a sparkle in her eyes that wouldn’t be there if she wasn’t anticipating seeing Cade. Getting off the elevator, she turned and saw his broad back immediately. Her heart rate increased, her breath fluttered over her lips.
If she got all hot and bothered just looking at his back, what would happen when she faced him? There was only one way to find out. She headed straight for him.
“Hi, Sabrina,” several of the nurses called to her.
“Hi,” she greeted. If she hadn’t been watching Cade, she wouldn’t have seen his shoulders tense. Two steps forward, two back. It was a good thing she didn’t give up on what she wanted easily.
She walked to him and turned, leaning back against the counter of the computer station the doctors worked on to look down at him. “Hello, Dr. Mathis.”
His hands flexed the tiniest bit, then he looked up. “Ms. Thomas.”
She was hoping he’d call her by her first name at work as he did a few of the staff members. Patience, she reminded herself. “I wanted to speak with you about a couple of your patients.”
“Mrs. Ward is doing well. I plan to discharge her Friday,” he said.
“She told me when I spoke with her this morning,” Sabrina said. “Her family plans a double celebration Saturday for her homecoming and Clarissa’s birthday party.” She leaned over, just to tempt herself, and just maybe him. His eyes widened, but he didn’t move back. “We’re invited to both parties.”
“I don’t have time.” He turned back to the computer screen.
Sabrina’s temper spiked at his easy dismissal, but she kept the smile on her face. Although she didn’t like it, she realized certain things couldn’t be rushed. It had taken countless skin grafts and surgeries and two years to try and repair the damage to her body, and even longer to heal the emotional scars of abuse and neglect. She might not remember the pain or the surgeries, but every day growing up she saw the scars and was reminded what her stoned mother had carelessly done to her.
Her early teen years had been particularly devastating. Teenage girls could be unthinkably cruel. She’d hated showering after gym and the whispers that always followed. She could do backflips and yells bet
ter than any of the girls in her class, but the coach of the varsity cheerleaders told her she couldn’t try out. Sabrina couldn’t wear the short skirt and a longer one would look “off.” The varsity swim coach hadn’t wanted her either. She hadn’t told her parents, just cried and wondered why life had been so cruel and unfair to make her ugly and different.
It had taken her parents’ and maternal grandparents’ unfaltering love and support to help her finally realize and accept that she was more than the scars on her body. If others judged her because of what they saw instead of her character, it was their problem and loss, not hers.
“I wasn’t finished, Dr. Mathis,” she said with a calmness that she was proud of. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a couple of doctors stop what they were doing and look over toward them. Sabrina was sure the staff was doing the same thing.
“Yes?” He faced her.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to discuss the case in a more private setting.” She glanced at the outside counter where two family members waited to speak to a doctor. One asked for a blanket.
“The cafeteria, I suppose.”
“My office actually.”
He stared at her. She stared back. “I probably won’t finish for another hour.”
“I’m extremely grateful for your time, Dr. Mathis. I’ll work around your schedule,” she said, trying to sound as contrite as possible for interfering with his schedule.
She shouldn’t have bothered. His eyebrow went up again. He clearly knew she was laying it on a bit thick.
“A calm work environment is essential.” She repeated his words.
“That remains to be seen. I’ll see you in one hour.”
“Thank you, Dr. Mathis.” Smiling, she stopped briefly to speak to the nurses and doctors before going to the elevator.
* * *
Cade paused before opening the door to Sabrina’s office. The corners of his mouth lifted in a semblance of a smile. She’d thrown a lot of BS at him. She knew it and so did he, but the results were the same. He was here just as she wanted.
