by Watters, Kim
The girl shook her head, settling her small body against her. Sarah wrapped an arm around her. “I’m a friend of your Uncle Grant’s. How old are you?”
Jordan held up three fingers.
“Wow. You’re a big girl. Can you help me hold onto the tire so we don’t fall off? I hear your uncle can push us into the next county if we’re not careful.”
Jordan giggled. Holding her securely, Sarah felt giddy herself as Grant pulled the tire back to get the momentum going again. He pushed them so high Sarah thought they were going to touch the fluffy, white clouds in the sky. The child’s laughter mingled with her own.
Sarah’s loosely tied ponytail came undone and she could feel her hair whipping around her face with each swing. Getting the tangles out would be hard, but the ride was worth it. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so happy. Her spirits stayed buoyant even after the ride ended.
“You girls have worn me out,” Sarah heard Grant pant as the swing stopped. “I suppose we should join the family before they wonder what happened to us.”
He helped them out, and then picked up their discarded soda cans before they headed to the backyard, Jordan running along in front of them. “I meant to tell you the other night you look good with your hair down. You should wear it that way more often.”
Sarah squirmed under Grant’s gaze but made no comment as she put her hair tie into her jeans pocket. She’d always hated her wavy hair. It had been impossible to style, but she’d never thought about cutting it off, so she’d always worn it back.
“There you are,” Gillian called out, waving at them to join her as the rounded the side of the house. “Come on Grant, come on, Sarah. We need two more on our team so we can beat the pants off the Blake family.” She stood among six other people who, if she remembered correctly, were Grant’s oldest sister, Patty and her husband Bob, his older sister, Caroline and her husband Richard, his younger brother, Matthew and Veronica.
“Let’s go.” Grant pulled her over to where Gillian stood. “It’s a game of volleyball. We do it every year. The losers have to do a beer run.”
Sarah hesitated. “I thought you were tired.”
“Not for a quick game.”
“But I don’t know how to play.”
“Do you think we do? Come on, it’s fun. The worst that can happen is I run to Walt’s and buy a case. All you do is hit the ball over the net and don’t let it go out of bounds.”
Which was easier said than done. Even after a few minutes of practice, Sarah wasn’t quite sure what was going on or how much she’d help the team. Fortunately, most of the time the ball sailed over her head or fell closer to someone else.
Eventually, it sailed right toward her. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, put her arms together like Grant had shown her and swung. The ball stung as it connected with her skin. She didn’t dare look at where the ball went until she heard the triumphant shouts from her teammates.
“You did it, Sarah.” Veronica ran over and gave her a big hug. “Right over Jeremy’s head. That’ll teach you not to be so cocky,” she yelled over her shoulder at the gawky teenager who’d turned beet red from the ribbing.
Sarah felt sorry for him for a moment, until she realized that the jokes were made out of love, not out of cruelty. She’d never known there was a difference before.
She almost felt like one of the family.
The dinner bell sounded, signaling an end to the match. Thanks to Sarah, the Morrison side won, so Grant’s cousin left to go to Walt’s. Sarah was glad the game was over. She doubted she’d be able to make another great shot, even if it was a match to determine who bought the beer.
“Nice job, Sarah.” Patty gave her a high-five.
Richard followed. “You can be on our team anytime.”
“Looks like you’re the hit of the afternoon,” Grant declared, escorting her to the table loaded with food.
“I’m not sure I’d go that far.” Sarah’s mouth watered when she looked at the burgers, baked beans, salads, chips and of course, chocolate chip cookies.
They loaded their plates and sat down at one of the many tables set up around the yard. Sarah kept close to Grant’s side, which wasn’t a problem since table space was hard to find. She could hardly concentrate on the food with Grant’s thigh touching hers in such an intimate way as she sat wedged between him and his cousin, Susan, who was just as interesting as he’d promised.
Dressed in a long, gauzy, flowered skirt, an oversized red sweater, complete with cowboy boots and hat, the blonde screamed eccentricity.
“So, you’re Sarah. Hi. I’m Susan, the family fruitcake.” Her laughter resembled the tinkling of a wind chime. “I’ve heard your Grant’s new assistant. It’s about time he got himself some decent help. I would have volunteered myself, but I’m allergic to anything that requires feeding. What else do you do?”
The woman reminded Sarah of a whirlwind. She liked her, but had a hard time following the conversation. “I go to school, work at Greer’s Diner and Grant’s clinic.”
“Goodness! You’re one busy beaver. I do as little as possible. You might call me the black sheep of the family. I dabble in the arts, you know, painting, sculpting, papier-mâché, whatever medium I feel like at that moment.”
“Do you make any money?”
“Heavens no. Where do you think the term starving artist came from?”
As she bounced from story to story, Sarah knew she’d never met anyone quite like the forty-something woman beside her. Not even the homeless people with whom she’d shared meals and fires could compete with her tales. Next to Susan, Sarah’s life didn’t seem so quite unusual.
“I love her, Grant. Bring her by the studio, I’d like to paint her—that’s my medium these days. A closed azalea, a little frostbitten around the edges, waiting to burst open and reveal her warm inner self.” She patted Sarah on the cheek as she rose from the bench. “Ta-ta, so many relatives, so little time. See you around.”
A sigh escaped Sarah’s lips as Susan flitted off to engage another relative in lively conversation. “Wow.”
“Now you see why I took so long in bringing you the soda earlier. Come on, I’ll introduce you to some of my normal cousins after you meet Aunt Mildred.”
Grant led her to a thin woman dressed in black, sitting on a foldout lawn chair, and leaned over to kiss the weathered cheek, colored with a hint of red rouge. “Aunt Mildred, meet Sarah Churchill. Sarah, meet Aunt Mildred, the matriarch of the Morrison clan. She’s into her nineties, and nothing happens without her knowing. Even I get the crack of her whip.” Grant wore a mischievous smile.
“Hello, Sarah. It’s nice to meet you.” His aunt pointed a gnarled finger at Grant. “Watch your tongue, boy, or I’ll tell your friend all your deep, dark secrets.” Aunt Mildred winked at her.
“It’s nice to meet you, too.” Maybe Sarah wasn’t the only one with something in their past to hide. Though with the family support Grant had, she couldn’t imagine it was anything like her own.
They spent the next few hours in conversation with just about everyone there. Before, she’d always felt like a spectator, but today, it was as if the Morrison clan wanted her to be here, to be a part of them. They’d accepted her as Grant’s friend and assistant.
The party broke up after sunset, and much to Sarah’s relief, Grant declined the invitation to continue the festivities at the local bar. They found his parents in the driveway, waving goodbye to a distant cousin and his family. Sarah made her farewells. “I had a great time, John, Olivia. Thanks for inviting me.”
She liked them both immensely. His father, an older version of Grant, right down to the deep blue eyes, was quiet and reserved. While his mother, petite with white hair, always had a welcoming smile on her lips. The image of her in the kitchen, in a dress, wearing an apron, baking chocolate chip cookies invaded her thoughts. Olivia was the type of mother Sarah had always wanted when she still believed in dreams.
Sarah caught Grant’s gaze. Maybe she’d never really outgrown t
hem.
She shuddered. Her thoughts were impossible. “Can you give my goodbyes to the rest of the family?”
“Of course, dear, it was nice meeting you, too.” Grant’s mother gave her a hug, and his father, a firm handshake. “Stop by and visit any time. You don’t need to wait until Grant brings you.”
An easy silence prevailed on the short drive back to her apartment. Tired, Sarah leaned her head against the headrest and shut her eyes, listening to the soft jazz on the radio. Today had been almost perfect.
Back at her building, Sarah debated on whether to invite Grant inside until she saw Mrs. Maddox draw the curtains back in her apartment downstairs. She decided against it. She couldn’t handle anything else today
“Thanks, Grant. I had a—an interesting time.”
“You’re welcome.” As he leaned in, she closed her eyes just like she’d seen in the movies and waited. Anticipation mingled with caution. But instead of kissing her senseless, his lips brushed hers and then retreated. “You were the hit of the day. See you Monday.”
“Yes. Monday.” Embarrassed at her own presumptions, Sarah bounded from the car and flew up the stairs, hoping to avoid her nosy neighbor. As promised, Lorraine had stopped by to take Rocky out, but she hadn’t been able to prevent him from chewing up another pair of shoes.
Sarah sank to the middle of the floor.
“Rocky, you bad dog! I thought we cured you of this?” She scolded him, holding up her black flats, which now had the bow chewed off the left one, and the slight heel of the right one almost completely gone.
Overcome by the day’s events, she threw the shoes into the corner before she crawled onto her daybed and hugged the pillow. Too many emotions swirled around her, threatening to shatter the wall she’d built around her heart. All because of Grant.
Rocky slunk toward her, his tail down. He nuzzled his snout against her and licked her face. Sarah hugged his big, furry body and cried. Rocky still loved her, even after she yelled at him, and Grant had only been too happy to introduce her to his family. Maybe all those years she’d been wrong.
Maybe she was loveable after all.
Chapter Eight
“Hi, Sarah, what are you looking for?” Lindsay Morrison asked her as she stood in the aisle of the Goodwill store in Denton. “I’m shopping for old seventies duds. There’s a theme party at school Saturday night.”
Horrified, Sarah stared at Grant’s niece. Aside from the lab coat Grant had given her and personal items, she hadn’t owned anything new in years. She was here to replace the black shoes Rocky had chewed and to find clothes to wear to night school, not some costume for a dance. Humiliation stained her cheeks. She couldn’t believe her luck at seeing a member of Grant’s family. What were the odds?
“I—I—”
In the nick of time, Grant’s older sister swung around the corner with a cart in tow. “Yoo-hoo, girls, have I got some stuff for you. Hi, Sarah, nice to see you again. Have you recovered from the party yet?”
“Y—yes, hi.” She stammered, trying to recall her name. She drew a blank.
The older woman must have sensed her hesitation. “It’s Caroline, but I hardly expect you to remember with al the relatives Grant subjected you to last weekend. It’s amazing you survived it all, especially once Aunt Mildred got a hold of you. She can be a bit bothersome.”
Sarah blushed. She’d liked Grant’s aunt. She’d reminded her of a thin version of her long ago neighbor, Mrs. White. “Aunt Mildred’s a kind, sweet woman.”
“Oh, she is. Don’t get me wrong, but she can be set in her ways.” Caroline turned and sorted through the rack of clothes directly in front of her. “Let’s just say we don’t always see eye to eye with her. Wow, will you look at this?” Grant’s sister grabbed a pair of purple bell-bottom pants. “Hard to believe these actually came back in style a few years ago.”
Sarah never paid attention to style and fads, but even she had to admit the flared trousers were loud, though she liked the color. “They are a bit much, aren’t they?”
“Yes, and unfortunately, some of us were around to wear this stuff the first time around. I can’t imagine…” She pulled out a monstrous lime-green leisure suit jacket from the cart and held it up to her chest. “Lindsay, Allison, don’t you think this will look adorable on Cousin Jeremy?”
The girls squealed their agreement as they continued to search the racks for something suitable.
“I don’t know, Mom. All this stuff is so ugly.” Lindsay grabbed a pink polyester blouse complete with frills and laughed. “Who in their right mind would ever wear something like this? Are you sure we’ll find what we’re looking for?”
Lindsay Marie Patterson, I taught you better manners than that. Obviously at one time, someone thought it was perfectly fine. Now you two go over there and continue your search. I want to talk to Sarah.” After putting the blouse back on the rack, Caroline waited until the girls were on the other side of the aisle before she continued. “So you’re taking classes at Denton Community College? What are you studying? I never had a chance to ask.”
“Just general stuff right now. I haven’t quite decided on a career yet, or where I’ll go when I’m finished there.”
“I envy you. I never continued my education. I married Richard right out of high school. He was my sweetheart.” Carline sighed. “He still is. Anyway, that’s all in the past. What’s important is right here and now, don’t you think?”
“Of course,” she agreed, not wanting to elaborate on how the past affected her present life, especially with Grant’s sister. Sarah shifted from one foot to the other, glanced at her watch, and knew she needed to continue looking before her afternoon off vanished completely. She had to leave soon to get to her English class.
“Oh, don’t let me keep you. I’ve got some looking to do myself. I’ll see you later.” Cart in tow, Carolyn disappeared into the next aisle.
Sarah sighed in relief and kept scanning through the blouses, but her afternoon was ruined. Though she couldn’t blame Caroline or Lindsay, she could only blame herself. By allowing Grant and his family into her life, she’d opened herself up to caring about their opinions.
Lost in thought, she didn’t see Caroline return. “Hey Sarah, check this out. I bet it would look great on you.” She pulled out a rose-colored silk blouse and held it up. “I can’t believe someone would get rid of a perfectly good shirt. I wish it were my size.”
She had to admit the shirt was beautiful and so were the two others Caroline showed her.
“And look here.” Caroline pulled out a cute vest with different types of dogs embroidered on it. “It’s still got the tags on it. Go figure.” She put the clothes in Sarah’s cart. “And I did find this for myself.” She held up a beautiful black cocktail dress with a scooped neck and long slender sleeves. “I have a dinner engagement through Richard’s work next weekend. Why spend a fortune on something I’ll probably wear once?”
Sarah nodded her agreement, figuring Grant’s sister was only trying to make her feel better. She appreciated the thought, but couldn’t voice the words. She needed to escape.
“Come on, let’s go try the clothes on.”
“I’m sure everything will fit. I’ve gotta run, or I’ll be late for class. Please say goodbye to the girls for me?” Sarah grabbed her cart and sped to the cashier.
The bell signaled a new arrival. Sarah hurried to the front. Mrs. Thatcher had left to run a few errands and Grant was in his office on a conference call with another vet, trying to figure out what was wrong with Mrs. O’Leary’s cat.
Sarah could have told him it was probably just a case of nerves. The darned feline had made the mistake of chasing an ornery, old crow and the bird had taken to dive bombing the cat every time it went outside. But what did she know? Grant was the expert.
“May I help you?”
“Hi, Sarah.” Gillian turned away from the display of dog food piled along the far wall. “I was hoping you’d be here today. I have some th
ings for you. Can you sneak out for a few minutes, or is that brother of mine a slave driver?”
Gillian’s appearance surprised her. She brushed away some dog hair stuck to her lab coat. “No. He’s not. I just finished cleaning up the back. I’m sure I can leave for a moment or two. Let me leave a note.”
Gillian led the way to her little red sports car. Somehow it fit Grant’s sister. Grant, too, if he chose to drive a car instead of a van. Of the two, Grant’s vehicle was more practical, but Gillian’s looked like more fun.
“Want to take it for a spin?”
She’d love to, but she knew she didn’t belong in a car like that. So did the cops when they pulled her over while driving her foster sister’s boyfriend’s car. Sarah had had no clue the car had been stolen. Fortunately, she’d gotten off on a technicality, but the event left its mark, as had all the others. “No, maybe some other time. I’ve still got a lot to do. Thanks for the offer though.”
“No problem. Here.” When Gillian pushed the button on her remote, the trunk popped open, revealing a white, plastic bag. She pulled it out and handed it to Sarah. “Caroline and I were going through our closets the other day and thought you might like these. You’re such a tiny thing though; you’ll probably need to alter them.”
A wave of humiliation coursed through her and Sarah’s smile froze on her face. She should have known something like this would happen the minute she saw Caroline at the Goodwill store.
Hand-me-downs. The words struck at the center of her heart. The taunts and jeers of her foster sisters and their friends echoed in her brain.
Sarah, Sarah, curly top,
Always gets what we don’t want.
Doesn’t matter big or small,
Sarah, Sarah wears it all.
It was one thing to buy clothes at a resale shop. The faces of those who wore them before were anonymous. But to accept things from Grant’s family—his sisters—was more than Sarah could handle. Every time she wore something of theirs, she could only imagine the looks and stares she’d receive. She was not a charity case.
