by James, Sandy
“You’re on the plane now? You didn’t need to drop everything just to come out here,” he replied. Sarah cocked her head as if trying to figure out the conversation from hearing only one side of it.
“It’s fine. You need some advice, and I know how Ross’s sister feels about Sarah. I want to assuage my own curiosity, too. Sarah seems like a fascinating person to get to know.”
“You’re bringing the munchkin?” He smiled at Sarah’s arched eyebrow.
“Of course. I’m still breastfeeding Jill. Ross helps a lot, but he just can’t help with that,” Laurie replied with a chuckle. The static increased. “I’m losing the connection. I’ll grab a rental at the airport. See you this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Laurie.” Ending the call, Josh put the phone on the nightstand and turned back to Sarah.
“Company?” she asked as she turned her back and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She still had that blasted sheet covering way too much.
Josh crawled over until he was able to stroke her slender back. He kissed the soft skin where neck met shoulder. She smelled wonderful. “Laurie’s coming for a visit.” He could still see each rib, and as he ran his fingers over them, he figured he’d just have to keep cooking for her until she put some meat back on her bones.
“Why?”
Hesitating for a minute, he wasn’t sure he should tell Sarah why he’d invited Laurie. How would Sarah feel knowing Josh wanted Laurie’s professional counseling advice to help Sarah get over her nearly suicidal desire to heal people? He finally opted for honesty—at least a small amount. “I invited her.”
Sarah’s spine straightened as she arched away from his touch. “You invited her? Why?” She didn’t even give him a chance to answer. “Because of me.” She stood up, taking the sheet with her and wrapping it around her like a toga. “She’s a counselor, right? You want her to talk to me.”
Seeing no reason to deny it, Josh nodded.
“I’m not suicidal anymore, Joshua.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
He nodded again.
“Then why do you want her to talk to me? For the story you were writing?”
He’d actually forgotten. Imagine that—Josh Miller forgetting a story. Next to impossible. Mack Stewart would be furious because Josh had never sent him anything, not even a quick email telling Mack he’d write something else later. His concern for Sarah had easily swept aside any commitment he’d made about a story. “No. Not for the story. I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Grabbing the nightshirt she’d been wearing off the floor, Sarah threw it against her shoulder with a loud slap. “So you did invite her because of me. You don’t trust me.”
“Fine. I did invite her because of you.” Josh crawled out of bed and went to stand before her. He reached out to rub her upper arms. “I’m worried about you.”
“Because I was thinking about killing myself?”
“Yes.”
She shook her head. “That was years ago...”
“No, Sarah. I’m talking about now, about what you’re doing to yourself every time you heal someone. It’s like you’re trading your life for theirs.”
She dismissed the notion with a flick of her wrist, but she wouldn’t look him in the eye.
He held tight to her arms. “Do you know how frightened I was, seeing you like that?”
Her hazel eyes finally met his.
“God, Sarah... You looked like you were dying, and you didn’t even seem to care. Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to die?”
“I don’t. I just... Do we have to talk about this?” Her gaze dropped to the floor.
Josh wanted to press her to answer, wanted to find out what was going through that mixed-up mind of hers. But he was at a loss. Hell, that was why he called Laurie to begin with. Patience. He needed patience. He kissed Sarah’s forehead. “No, we don’t have to talk about it. Not now. But we will later.” Gently lifting her chin with his finger, he finally got her to glance back up at him. Then he brushed a quick kiss on her lips. “Now, we have breakfast.”
* * * *
Sitting on the porch swing, Sarah sighed in contentment. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in... Hell, she’d never felt this relaxed. Not during her frantic high school years. Not when she’d wasted her twenties painting the town with Charlie. And definitely not when she’d spent the last few lost years healing people.
The day, which had already started out next to perfect, had blossomed into hours of sunshine and warmth—warmth that reached all the way inside her, banishing years of cold. Healing someone always left her feeling as if she would never be warm again. Montana had restored the heat. Sarah couldn’t help but smile, thinking that Joshua Miller had also brought plenty of heat into her life. The man was certainly...gifted.
With a gentle push of her bare foot against the wooden porch, the swing swayed. Feeling drowsy, Sarah closed her eyes and let movement slowly lull her to sleep.
She startled when Josh sat down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close until her head rested against his shoulder.
“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, while letting his fingers wander up her arm to brush against her neck and give a gentle tug on her earlobe. Every time they were close, Josh had his hands on her, and Sarah loved every moment of the contact. Such light caresses, like whispers against her skin, raising gooseflesh. He made her feel important. Special. Almost...loved.
“It’s fine. I’m still a bit tired since...” She let the thought hang between them. There was no way she’d let Josh think he owed her something for healing Libby. Besides, the healing wasn’t the only thing that had worn her out. Josh had contributed to her fatigue as well. She smiled at the passionate memories.
“Since you saved my daughter. You’ve got no idea how grateful I am you were here.”
“I didn’t save her, Joshua. I just...healed her. It was...nothing. Really.”
Josh lifted her chin with his finger. Staring deeply into her eyes, he said, “It was everything to me.” He pressed a warm kiss to her lips. “Thank you, Sarah.”
She just gave him a quick nod then dropped her head back to rest against his strong chest. All day, Sarah had offered up prayers of thanksgiving for being given the gift that saved Josh’s daughter. The struggle and pain of the last few years were forgotten, replaced with the notion that all things happened for a good reason. She was struck by lightning to save people but most especially because she had one vital task to complete. Sarah was given the gift of healing to make sure the most important person in Joshua’s world wasn’t taken from him. He’d already lost far too much.
At last, Sarah felt as if she’d evened the balance she owed the universe for what she had let happen to Charlie.
So where did she go from here?
As if reading her mind, Josh asked, “What are you going to do when we go home?”
That was a tough question. If she didn’t owe the world anything anymore, did that mean she wouldn’t be healing people? She couldn’t just walk away from sick people—people who would die without her. But could she go back to the life she’d known before Josh Miller? That was unthinkable. No, things would have to change. Somehow.
The sound of a car rumbling up the long gravel drive caught her ear. Sarah sat up. “Is that your cousin?”
Josh nodded. “Not too many people can find the place. We’re kinda in the middle of nowhere. It’s got to be Laurie.” She loved the sound of his chuckle. “Or else it’s another Miller brat. God knows there’s more than enough of us.”
Standing up, he offered his hand to Sarah. With a smile, she put her hand in his. They walked hand and hand to the Jeep which had ground to a stop close to the house.
* * * *
Pushing her chair back, Sarah covered her mouth to smother a very unladylike burp. Josh had truly outdone himself. Barbequed spare ribs. Fresh green beans. Mashed potatoes. Carrot cake. A man who c
ould certainly cook. Sarah was in culinary heaven.
Laurie plucked a sloppy Jill from the wooden high chair. The baby had been pushing green beans and potatoes around the high chair tray. While she’d started out eating the diced up food with gusto, her appetite had clearly waned. There were a few icing smudges on her cheeks, but even the bits of remaining cake didn’t seem to interest her. Unless you counted smearing it around like fingerpaint.
“Look at you,” Laurie said, clucking her tongue. “I think it’s time for a bath, Jill.” She turned to Sarah. “Want to give me a hand?”
“I...I guess,” Sarah replied. Glancing back to Josh, she said, “I should help you with the dishes.”
“Nah,” Libby said, practically shooing Sarah away. Gathering a few empty dishes, Libby stood up and carried them to the sink. “I’ll help Pop. Go on. Go with Laurie.”
Since Laurie and Jill had arrived late that afternoon, Sarah had been waiting for the counselor to make her move. But Laurie had simply settled in like one of the family. There’d been no pushing or prodding to get Sarah to talk about things she was happier ignoring. Maybe this was an opportunity to get Sarah cornered in the bathroom so the inquisition could start. Since she didn’t want to appear rude, she accepted Laurie’s invitation with a brisk nod.
Reluctantly following Laurie and Jill to one of the upstairs bathrooms, Sarah sat down on the closed toilet seat. Laurie started the faucet in the tub and checked the temperature with one hand while she balanced Jill on her hip with the other.
This bathroom had a more traditional tub. The one Sarah really wanted to explore was the one with the big claw-footed tub Libby had shown her—the tub Libby liked soaking in. Sarah planned to do just that sometime before she went back to Indiana.
Back to Indiana? God, she didn’t want to think about that. She had no idea how she could ever leave Josh behind.
“I forgot the baby shampoo,” Laurie said before she suddenly plopped Jill on Sarah’s lap. “Can you please get her clothes off? I’m going to go grab her shampoo and soap.” Before Sarah could even protest, Laurie hurried out the bathroom door.
“But...but... I don’t know how.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Laurie called from the hall.
Sarah held Jill like she was made of crystal. Weren’t babies supposed to be fragile? Jill sure didn’t feel fragile. A little on the roly-poly side, she was sturdy enough to push herself up to stand on Sarah’s thighs. Sarah put her hands on Jill’s waist and tried to hold her steady.
Two enormous brown eyes framed in long blond lashes stared up at Sarah, and the warmth of a spontaneous smile took her entirely by surprise.
She’d never felt remotely maternal before. She’d never even held a real baby. The youngest child she’d healed was two. Shoot, she wasn’t sure she would ever have the opportunity or even the desire to be a mother, always thinking she was one of those women who would be better off not having kids. But when Jill grinned up at her with those four impossibly tiny teeth and those innocent eyes, something inside Sarah melted.
Despite Laurie’s insistence that Jill needed a bath, she smelled good. Baby powder and a hint of... What was that smell? Eau du Baby? Not a scent Sarah was used to, but one she could quickly learn to love. Jill reached up with chubby fingers to grab the long braid sitting against Sarah’s shoulder. Then she giggled as she tugged on it, the sound wrapping around Sarah’s heart and squeezing.
Tears suddenly formed in Sarah’s eyes. She wasn’t sure why she was crying, but she wouldn’t let go of Jill to wipe them away. They traced warm, wet paths down her cheeks.
“Babies have that effect on some people,” Laurie said, making Sarah jump in surprise. “Kinda makes you feel...mushy inside.” She reached for Jill who smiled and started a bouncing motion that made Sarah afraid she’d drop her.
“She’s fine. You won’t hurt her,” Laurie reassured. It took Sarah a second to remember Laurie could read emotions. “She’s a sturdy little bugger. Like her father. I’m married to six-feet six-inches of solid muscle. Add that to my height, and Jill’s likely to be really tall.”
“How old is she?” Sarah asked. Laurie had an air about her that easily put Sarah at ease. She’d expected the Spanish Inquisition, but Laurie acted as if they were already well acquainted. Friendly. Warm. Comfortable.
“Almost six months.” She had pulled Jill’s pink t-shirt over her head and stripped the corduroy pants. They sat in a pile next to the towels. Sarah got up, grabbed them, and folded the garments. Handling them felt so foreign. They were so small, they were downright adorable.
“Thanks, but you don’t have to do that. They’re going straight into the washing machine later,” Laurie said, glancing up with a smile that looked just like Jill’s—albeit there were more teeth and Laurie’s eyes were a pale blue. Jill’s amber hue must have come from her father.
Laurie pulled the tapes on the diaper, took it out from between the baby’s legs, and put it aside on the tile floor. Checking the water one more time, Laurie turned off the faucet. “Bath time for Bonzo.” She blew a raspberry against her daughter’s chubby cheek. Jill squealed with laughter. “Ugh. You taste like green beans and carrot cake. Not a good combination, my darling daughter.” Jill just kept laughing.
Once Laurie had Jill sitting in the water, she knelt next to the tub and watched her daughter splash in sheer delight. “Josh is worried about you.”
“I know. But... There’s nothing to worry about now.”
“He’s very important to me. We’re more like brother and sister than cousins. You’re obviously very important to him. If I may be blunt...”
“Isn’t every Miller?” Sarah immediately wanted to pull the words back and engage a little more tact when she spoke. Laurie’s responding chuckle eased her fear she’d insulted the family.
“Definitely. We learn it from the cradle.” Her tone grew serious. “Josh cares for you, Sarah. I could read it the moment I saw him with you. But he’s afraid you might, how do I put this tactfully...”
“Kill myself.”
“So Millers aren’t the only blunt ones. Yes, he’s afraid you’re slowly killing yourself by healing people. He told me after you help someone you practically fall into a coma.” Laurie never let her eyes leave Jill, but Sarah could tell she was still sizing up all of her responses. The counselor in her probably couldn’t help herself.
Picking up the discarded diaper, Sarah folded it, sealed it with the tapes, and threw it in the trash can. “I don’t want to kill myself now. That was a long time ago. And I think I’ve made peace with what was bothering me.”
“What does it feel like? To heal someone?” Laurie asked.
Like I’m important to the world. Like I matter. Sarah sat back down on the toilet seat and shrugged, wondering if Laurie was asking for morbid curiosity to judge whether Sarah was for real.
“Tough question, huh?” Lathering Jill’s blond hair, Laurie said, “I’m not your doctor, Sarah. So I can’t presume to tell you what to do. All I want is for you to realize that there are solutions to every problem. Have you found one to yours?”
“What do you mean?”
Laurie used a plastic cup to pour water over Jill’s sudsy hair. “You have a very special ability, one that makes your life different than anyone else’s. You can heal sick people.”
“You believe me? That I can really heal people?”
“Of course. If Josh believes it, I believe it. He told me what you did for Libby, and I’ve heard another person talk about you, someone who you helped.”
How pleasant it was to not have to convince someone she was the genuine article. About to ask which client Laurie had talked to, she was distracted by Jill’s insistence on splashing water all over her mother. Sarah picked up a towel and handed it to Laurie who wiped some droplets from her face and smiled. Laurie draped it over her shoulder and sat back on her heels to watch Jill splashing in the bathwater.
“What you need to solve is the problem of how you can
help people and not hurt yourself. Have you considered limiting how many... What do you call the people who come to you?”
“Clients.”
“Limiting how many clients you see.”
How absurd it was to have not given that solution more serious consideration before. Sarah felt stupid enough, she figured she should be crossing her eyes and saying, “Duh.” But she’d always assumed the more people she healed, the better chance she had of righting all her wrongs. “How could I possibly turn anyone away?”
Laurie glanced at her and smiled. “Sometimes the most obvious solution is the one we forget to consider. You’re not stupid.”
“This empathic stuff is creepy.”
With a pleasant chuckle, Laurie spread the towel over her chest, and plucked her wet and wiggling daughter from the tub. “That’s what my husband says too. He’s learned to live with it because I can’t read him. Jill here will probably have the same empathic ability. Runs through the women in my family.”
“Must come in handy in your job.”
Laurie rubbed the towel against Jill’s hair which started to spring into loose curls. “Usually, it does. But it can also be a liability. Just like your gift. So what do you plan to do with your talent, Sarah?”
“What do you mean?”
“You can learn to live with it, or you can die from it. Which choice will you make?”
Chapter 16
Josh could sense the change in Sarah all evening. She’d been so deep in her own world, he’d mistakenly thought she’d fallen asleep a few times. The conversation had been mostly between him, Laurie, and Libby. Even Jill had contributed her share of gurgles, giggles, and “Mamas.” But Sarah probably hadn’t said a dozen words.
Laurie sat in the recliner, her shoulder and chest draped with a baby blanket as she nursed Jill. Sarah had spent quite a bit of time talking quietly with Laurie, but he hadn’t wanted to poke his nose into the conversation, choosing instead to trust Laurie to do what she did so well. Once, Laurie had left Jill with him so she and Sarah could go for a walk. He played with the baby and watched them in the twilight through the big picture window. They’d paced down and then back up the long tree-lined road leading to the ranch ten times before he stopped counting. His cousin had obviously given Sarah quite a bit to think about.
