“They put him on morphine. And you know when that happens it means the end is near. Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here. I’ll leave tomorrow morning. I’ll see you guys Sunday afternoon.”
“Okay. Love you, sis.”
“Love you too.” Sara sat on her bed to steady herself. She had known this was coming, but she realized that she wasn’t prepared—not really. She didn’t know how long she would have to be gone. She got a notebook and started making a list of everything she needed to pack and all the professors she needed to email.
“Sara, is everything okay?” Genova stood in the doorway with her jacket on.
Blinking rapidly, she tried to contain the emotion in her voice. “Umm. My brother called, they’re gathering the family.” Sara felt like a robot. She stood and got a bag from under her bed then opened her dresser and started throwing things into the bag.
Genova sat down. “I’m sorry, what can I do?”
“Nothing, thanks.” Sara tried to think of the best way to be efficient right now. She opened her laptop. She needed to email her article for the paper too. She was relieved it was done. “I’ll leave in the morning. I just need to get things organized right now.” She turned back to her dresser, thinking she might need extra clothes if she stayed longer.
“Sara,” Genova said, standing and touching her shoulder, “are you really okay?”
Sara looked into her friend’s eyes, seeing pity and sadness. She pushed her hand away. “I’ll be fine.” There was no time for this. The semester had just started, and she needed to be able to focus. How would she keep her scholarship if she couldn’t focus?
Genova sighed. “Sara, do you need to borrow some money?”
Money. That was something that she hadn’t thought about. Her checking account with two hundred dollars in it. Maybe one of her brothers could give her a loan to get her through. “I’ll be okay.” She turned to Genova, not wanting all of this to weigh on her big day. “Really,” she said, trying to sound convincing. “It’s okay.” She pasted on a big smile. “Look, go do what you had planned; we’ll talk later.”
Genova didn’t look convinced.
“Really, I have to get this stuff ready; we’ll talk later.” She couldn’t take a heart-to-heart right now, she needed to focus.
“I’ll stay and help you.” Genova took her jacket off.
“No.” Sara walked Genova to the door. “I’m fine. I’ll see you in a little bit. Have fun.” Pushing her out, she closed the door quickly.
Her father was an efficient person. He would want her to be efficient right now. She turned back to her computer and sent off her Beatrice article and a note to her professors, telling them the situation. He couldn’t die. She closed her eyes. He was her whole world. She pushed everything off of her bed and reached for the pillow. She tucked it into her face and sobbed.
Chapter 15
Beau banged the door with his fist. This was the address listed on the student directory he’d pulled up with his phone. He didn’t know why he was wasting his time coming over here. He only knew that he was unreasonably angered when Sara hadn’t shown up at the Cowboy.
He leaned against the door and banged a final time. It was a Friday night, for crying out loud; she was either ignoring him or not at home.
The door whipped open; Sara stood there. She looked like a zombie from a horror movie. Her hair was matted and her black makeup surrounded her eyes and leaked down into the creases on her nose. Her usually bright blue eyes were bloodshot. “You’re looking rested,” Beau quipped, sticking his foot into the door. “Rob was upset you weren’t there.”
Sara squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head fiercely as if she’d just woken from a bad dream. “Oh—something came up.”
Beau eased in and shut the door. “Is this one of those spring canyon times?”
“What?” Sara turned to face him.
Beau didn’t know why he’d remembered that. “You said that your dad always said you were a desert in the summer or a canyon in the spring.” He stepped away from her, giving her space.
Her lip started to quiver, and she rushed into the kitchen, getting a glass of water and guzzling it down. “You have to leave, Beau. I’m busy.” She stayed in front of the sink.
The only light on was the one by the front door. Beau thought he saw a tear go down her cheek. He wasn’t going to leave. “You’re a terrible missionary. Don’t you know that you should keep promises you make?”
She squared her back to him. “Just shut up, Beau.”
Beau couldn’t stop himself from going to her. He knew that he annoyed her, but something had to be wrong. “What is going on?” It came out angrier than he wanted it to. He just hated it when people cried and he didn’t know why.
“Beau—.” She reached out to steady herself on him and he caught her arm.
“Are you okay?” He pushed her back and looked into her eyes, hating that his first instinct was to wrap his arms around her.
“It’s my dad. My brother said my dad’s waiting for me,” she choked off, sobbing.
Beau quickly pulled her into him, gently stroking her hair. Sara cried into his chest. “Shh,” he whispered into her ear. “I’m sorry.” And he was. He could feel her grief leaking out around her. It touched him. Touched a grief that he’d carried inside of him for a long time.
She clung to him like a frightened child. “I know it’s time. I just don’t want it to be.”
He pulled her closer, trying not to get lost in how good she smelled. “I know.”
Sara sniffed and pulled away. “Oh my—,” she said, looking at the clock on the stove, “I have to get ready.”
Beau followed her into her room and noticed that it was a disaster. “When are you leaving?”
“In—let’s see, seven hours.” She pulled her suitcase open and went to her closet, pulling clothes off the hangers.
“I’ll give you a ride to the airport.”
Sara paused, looking him up and down. “Thanks, but I’m driving.”
She moved to the bathroom, pulling all her toiletries out of the basket next to the sink. Beau followed her feeling like a child following his mother around the house. “You can’t drive—that’s a two day drive.”
Sara walked back into her bedroom. “It’s nine hours, but I’ll be fine.” She stuffed her little bag into her big bag and picked up her computer. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. I wonder if I can get my Lit assignment done.”
Beau picked up her computer and put it on the bed. “I’ll drive you.”
She frowned. “What?”
Beau didn’t know why he was offering to do this. “I have a friend in Kalispell. That’s where you’re from, right?” He knew where she was from because he’d looked it up in her file.
“No, you’re not driving me.” She stood and walked to the front room, opening the closet and getting her coat out. “Thanks for letting me breakdown, but I’ve got to finish packing.” She pushed past him and stuffed more into the suitcase.
He didn’t want to leave, but he knew that there was no reason for him to stay.
“I have a lot to get done, Beau.” She grabbed a tissue off of the bedside table, blowing her nose. “I’ll see you when I get back from the funeral.”
Her eyes were raw, and he wanted to hold her again. “Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do?”
“No. Thanks.” She turned back to her suitcase. “Wait.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Martha and Larry. Oh shoot. I wish they had cell phones.” She opened her computer to look up the number for the Ivinson home.
“Who?”
Sara turned to him, looking him up and down. “You could do this for me.” She began nodding her head in a way that made him want to say no to whatever she was going to ask.
“What?”
“I teach dance lessons to a couple over at the Ivinson home. I usually do it on Saturday mornings. They wait for me in the little cafeteria.”
Beau squinted, trying to imagine he
r doing this. “Okay.”
She frowned. “Never mind. Carey is such a jerk; he could do this if he wasn’t—.”
“What about Carey?” Beau was confused as to why she was ranting about Carey.
“Oh, he used to help me teach them. Until he ditched me.” Sara turned away from him, reaching for a book on her desk and stuffing it forcefully into her suitcase.
“I’ll make sure they know the situation.” He looked on his phone and found the number for the Ivinson home.
“Okay—thanks.” She hesitated. “You could just fill in for me.”
He put his hand to his chest. “Me? No.” No, that would not do at all. “But I’ll make some calls and get them a teacher.”
Sara smiled and let her breath out. “Thank you.” Tears started coming down her face again. “Please go, Beau. I just need to finish all this stuff.”
He could see that she was overwhelmed by it all. “Okay.” He wanted to hug her, but resisted. “I’ll be in touch.”
“Thanks.” She walked him out, shutting the front door behind him.
**
Sara drank some juice out of the fridge and surveyed her list.
“Are you ready?” Genova came out of her bedroom, tightening her pink robe around her. Her dark hair fell in cascading curls around her face. “Let me go with you.”
Sara tried to smile but felt so raw with emotion, she couldn’t quite turn her lips.
“Sara.” Genova pulled her into a hug.
“I’ll be fine.” She wiped her face and summoned her energy, picking up her bag. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so I don’t want you to come. I’ll call. I promise.”
“I’ll be up for the funeral.” Genova hovered over her.
“No.” Sara gave her a stern look. “You need to keep studying.” Genova was an engineering major and worked very hard to keep her grades up for her scholarship too. “Plus, they’ll be plenty of family and things to take care of. I’ll call and whine to you, I promise.” She gave the bravest face she could muster and walked out the door.
Beau was sitting in his truck in front of her apartment. She watched him get out. “Hey.”
Confused, she stood there for a minute. “What are you doing here?”
Beau stepped to her, taking her bag easily off of her shoulder. “You said you were leaving at six.”
Chapter 16
Sara paused, unsure of what he wanted. “Okay.”
“I’ve wanted to explore some business options in Kalispell. I thought I could tag along and talk with your brothers.”
Sara was confused. “I don’t think it’s the time, Beau.”
He shook his head. “I would hire you, for your time. All I would require is that you show me around town. And I would insist on paying your expenses. Plus—I just stopped in the Ivinson home and left a message for your dance people.” His eyes twinkled, and he looked so pleased with himself. “So we’re all set.”
This whole thing was ridiculous; she wasn’t going to take Beau to her father’s funeral. “Look, Beau, I’ve got to go. No. No, I don’t think this would work.”
“I spoke with your brother, James.”
Sara felt blindsided and tried to digest this information. “What?”
“You said they might be interested in leasing land out to oil companies. I called last night and he agreed that I could come and discuss this with all of you. I’ll stay with my friend.” He held up his hands innocently. “I’ll pay you twenty dollars an hour.” He wouldn’t move out of her way. “But we have to be going.” He started walking to his truck. “Our plane leaves in an hour.”
Sara couldn’t move. “What? No.”
“I’m not driving, Sara, it’s too far.” He stood outside the passenger door to his truck and opened it, waiting for her.
**
Sara and Beau walked up the ramp from the plane. The flight had been uneventful; she hadn’t even looked at him the whole way there. Furious didn’t even begin to describe how she felt.
“Are you going to talk to me?” He stepped next to her on the ramp, leading into the main part of the airport.
Sara shook her head no.
“You are working for me.”
Sara turned and glared at him. “I quit.”
Beau didn’t speak for a second. “It’s probably better you quit before I fire you. That would look bad on your resume.”
Sara stopped next to the luggage carousel, folding her arms, and turning away from him.
Beau sighed. “Why won’t you let people help you, Sara?” He picked up both of their suitcases. “C’mon. I told your brother that I would deliver you to the ranch.”
Sara grabbed her bag and reluctantly followed him to the rental car place. She didn’t know exactly why she was so mad at him. She just felt—coerced.
Beau drove out of the airport, not bothering to ask her for directions. Sara looked over at him. His jaw was clenched, and he looked angry.
“You need to go . . .” She started to point.
“I know.” He didn’t look at her.
“Okay, you don’t have a right to be mad at me.”
Beau ignored her.
“I didn’t ask you to do this.” She looked at him, again. He was wearing a white cotton shirt and jeans with his boots. She frowned, thinking he’d fit right in with her brothers. “Why are you doing this, Beau?”
He turned to her. “It’s a business opportunity.”
“No,” she countered, correcting him, “you’re ramrodding me into doing what you want.”
Beau didn’t say anything.
Sara looked out of the window. “Just like them,” she muttered it, under her breathe.
“What?” Beau turned sharply to her
“Nothing.”
“You can at least tell me why you’re so angry.”
Sara shook her head no.
“Sara.” His voice was soft.
“My brothers. You remind me of them. Of how they plow ahead and don’t ask me, and then expect me to be grateful they helped.” She looked at him, annoyed.
Beau frowned and sighed loudly. “You really don’t like people to help you. Well, you’re just going to have to get over it.” He turned up the tree-lined street to her home.
Sara felt her anger surging. “I don’t expect you to understand. You don’t really ask questions, Beau. You just make assumptions. You know nothing about me. Nothing.” Her voice was escalating. “And, believe me, I know plenty about you to see that I don’t want to know anything else. You’re pushy and greedy and don’t even want to help kids that need wheelchairs.” She regretted the words the second they were out of her lips, but her emotion needed venting, and Beau had put himself in the perfect position for that.
Beau pulled in front of her home and stopped. His eyes were steady, but she heard his breath coming fast.
Sara opened the car door and turned to look in his eyes. “Go home, Beau. I don’t need anyone to help me.” She got out of the car and ran swiftly up the steps.
James, Tim, and Mark all stood up at the kitchen table. “Hey,” James nodded to her.
“How is he?” Sara looked at the glasses on the table and Rosie preparing sandwiches. Her father had hired Rosie as his nurse and the family cook two years ago, when he was first diagnosed with cancer. She’d become a permanent fixture around the Fairbanks household.
James stepped toward her. “He can’t breathe very well. I don’t think it’ll be long now that you’re here.”
Sara dropped her bag and rushed up the stairs. She took the stairs two at a time like she used to when her brothers were chasing her. Then she slowly, gently pushed the door open to her father’s room.
“Sara?” His voice was raspy and weak. He lay in a hospital-type of bed with oxygen attached to his face and a morphine drip inserted in his arm.
“Daddy.” She sat in the chair beside him and took his hand.
Her dad, named James also, looked at her without turning his head. “My princess has
come home.” He tried to smile and that even looked painful to Sara.
“I’m here.” She took her other hand and softly stroked his head. “I’m sorry for leaving. I never should have left you like this.” Emotion thumped behind her eyes.
He took in a slow breath, then cringed and turned his head. “I’m so proud of you, Princess. Proud that you are my smart cracker.” It was a nick name he’d given her a long time ago. “I need you to know that I love you. And that you’re the best daughter a man could have.”
Sara sniffed. “But I haven’t been here for you. I’m so sorry.”
He patted her hand. “You can take care of yourself, dear. I may not have always shown it, but I want you to have an education. I am so proud of you. Never doubt that I wanted that for you. You’re going to do incredible things with your life; don’t let anyone hold you back. And your mamma—.” He broke off coughing. “She—she wants . . .” The coughing worsened, his whole body shaking with it.
“Daddy!” She felt more scared than she’d ever felt in her entire life. Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back. She looked beside his bed at the picture of her mother that she’d memorized as a child. His cough got worse and Sara stood, holding his hand. “Rosie!”
Rosie appeared and propped him up for a minute. “Breathe easy, Mr. Fairbanks.” She started mimicking calm breathing.
His breathing slowed. Then he seemed to drop off to sleep in a second.
Rosie settled him and motioned to the door. Sara followed, but left the door propped open. She knew the monitors were loud enough to hear downstairs; she just felt extra protective of him.
“I saw the morphine, Rosie. You said when they started him on that it would be over soon. How much time?” She put her hands on her hips, thinking of how gray her father’s skin looked around the eyes.
Rosie shrugged and motioned her to Sara’s room. Sara noticed that someone had brought her bag up to her bedroom for her. She sat on the bed beside it.
“They started him on the morphine last night. He hasn’t eaten anything for two days. He hasn’t drank anything since yesterday.”
“How long can he go without eating?”
Mr. Wrong Page 7
