Borrowed Time

by Edie Claire

  "Sarah, it’s nothing to be—"

  She whirled around. "Oh, spare me the recovery rhetoric," she snapped. "I have lied to you before, and you know that. I did it to protect my privacy, and I’m not apologizing for it. But I’m not lying to you now, Adam. I have not been raped. Never. Not even close!"

  For several seconds, he made no response. The only sounds in the car were the clinking of the machinery and the swipe of a tree branch across its metal roof. "I didn’t mean to upset you," he said finally. "I’m sorry."

  Three more deep breaths cooled her ire. At least superficially. "I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know you’re just trying to help."

  They sat silently for the rest of the ride, staring out over the approaching rooftops of Station Square. They disembarked at the station and walked wordlessly to Adam’s car. He opened her door for her, then turned.

  "I had a wonderful time tonight," he said quietly. "At least, up until the last fifteen minutes. Sorry about that."

  She grinned. Her eyes moistened. "Ditto."

  His expression softened. Then he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

  She wrapped her own quickly around his waist and pressed herself to his chest. The feeling she had craved so fiercely did not disappoint. It was soothing, peaceful, fortifying. She wanted to absorb his warmth, to capture it. She wanted to keep it with her.

  But the embrace didn’t last long. After a few, tantalizing seconds, he dropped a kiss on the top of her head, grasped her upper arms gently, and set her away from him.

  His message could not have been clearer. "Well, it’s back to work tomorrow," he announced lightly, moving toward his own door. "I suppose we’d better get you home."

  ***

  Sarah turned onto her right side, jerking the sheet with her. She lay still for half a minute, then flopped onto her back again.

  Rock Rockney. It was as if he were in the room. Laughing at her. Taunting her. She could not remove his heinous image from her mind.

  He just grabbed me and started kissing me...

  Dee had been so naïve, so reckless. She had thought she was worldly, but she was deluded. She hadn’t been afraid of him, but Sarah had been. From the first moment Sarah had laid eyes on him, straddled over that monstrous motorcycle, shirtless, her flesh had crawled. She didn’t like the way he looked at her. She didn’t like the way he handled her sister. But like an idiot, Sarah had said nothing. She never said anything to Dee about her promiscuousness, because she knew that any criticism could send her sister into a rage. Or worse yet, a profound and lasting funk.

  Sarah had said nothing about Rock. Not then, and not when he next appeared at their door that first night after her aunt and uncle returned to Georgia. The first night she and Dee were alone.

  Sarah hadn’t wanted him in the house. She didn’t want Dee to let him in. But the house was her sister’s as much as hers. Dee wanted privacy, and Sarah gave it to her. Even when Sarah heard Dee yelling at him, she had stayed upstairs. An argument with a boyfriend was nothing unusual; Dee yelled at everybody. Sarah had almost been rooting for such a spat, figuring if he got ticked enough, he would leave. But she never heard a door slam.

  No sound had alerted her to the horror unfolding. It had been the opposite, the absence of sound, that had soon pricked the hairs on the back of Sarah’s neck. That made her creep down the stairs, slowly, cautiously, to see exactly what was going on. She knew what explanation was likely. She knew the scene she was about to stumble on could be X-rated, and if that was the case she was prepared to return promptly to her room. Just as soon as she made sure that Dee was all right.

  Sarah flopped back on to her left side again. Sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind raced.

  Adam thought that she had been raped. She could not remember that fact without a flush of heat forcing her into a cold sweat. It was almost as if his thinking it made it true. As if she and her sister had spun out of time and landed in each other’s places.

  She sat up and turned on the light. It had been years since she’d suffered a night like this. Dee was in her thoughts frequently, but over time she had learned to prevent reliving the worst of what had happened—at least when there was no provocation for remembering it. She knew that going back to Auburn would be difficult, and unexpected catalysts like her ER visit were always a threat. But there was no excuse for her tonight. Adam’s accusation had disturbed her far too much. If she had any sense, if she had kept her wits, she could have told him that he was right. Maybe then he would have been satisfied, and the probing would end. What did it matter if he thought she had been raped?

  She supposed it shouldn’t matter. But it did.

  "Sorry, Dee," she mumbled aloud, staring at the hands that clutched her sheets. "I almost lost it. But it won’t happen again. I promise."

  She reached over and pulled Watership Down from the bottom of her book stack. Then she laid her head back on the pillows. She had no idea how long she tried to read, staring at the same lines over and over, or at what point her grip slackened and her eyelids closed. All she knew was that when she woke, it was with such a violent start that the book landed half a room away.

  She had seen Dee. Seen her just as she had seen her then. Battered and bruised. Humiliated and angry. Frightened, livid, incensed. Dee’s eyes had been wild, her lower jaw had trembled.

  I did it, Sarah, she had declared, her words ragged and uneven, split with gulps of breath.

  I killed him.

  Chapter 21

  When Adam arrived at the church office the next morning, only Ruby Reichenbach, the full-time secretary, was in, and she was on the phone. He was glad. He passed her desk with a smile and a wave, dodged into his own office, and shut the door.

  He dropped into his desk chair and ran a hand through his hair. Another sleepless night. They were becoming the norm.

  He pushed the button to boot up his computer, then sifted through his stack of phone messages. He had missed two calls yesterday, both when he should still have been here. Ruby had been careful to note the times. She had underlined them twice.

  He could have told the secretary the reason for his irregular hours. He could have said he was driving an ill neighbor to work, and other than the famed Reichenbach single-eyebrow arch, he would have received no more comment. But he hadn’t told Ruby—or anyone else in the office—anything. And if he was honest with himself, he knew why.

  Because he wasn’t driving an ill neighbor to work. He was conniving to spend more time with a woman he wanted desperately.

  More desperately, in fact, than he’d ever wanted any woman in his entire life.

  How stupid had he been to think that he could help Sarah without becoming emotionally involved? He should have known better, stopped himself sooner. He’d been in lust from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, and now that her soul had bewitched him as well, the effect was excruciating.

  When they had left Auburn that dreadful morning, all he had wanted was to make her happy. Everything else he had been trying to do for her seemed only to backfire, and he had wanted to give her something—a little bit of joy, a couple hours of fun—to make up for it. She had seemed to need that, and she had seemed to enjoy it. But it was supposed to end there.

  He'd had no intention, when he picked Sarah up at work yesterday, of asking her out for another fun-filled evening on the town—certainly not after what had happened the night before. She hadn’t meant anything by that first impromptu hug, and he had gotten himself out of it as soon as humanly possible, but that hadn’t mattered. Three seconds of being next to Sarah in a T-shirt with no bra had cost him seven hours of sleep, and he had been determined not to repeat that agony. But his well-laid plans had gone up in smoke when he saw her in her office, her eyes glued to the website of the Alabama Department of Transportation.

  He knew then that whatever was bothering her was only getting worse. And to think that he could back off—leave her hanging in the wind with that wretched fear still in her eyes—j
ust to pacify his own torment was ludicrous. Whatever Sarah’s problem was, he was in it with her now. And if that was the case, he had reasoned, if getting closer to her was a necessary evil, was it so wrong to indulge her in a ride on the incline and some cheesecake?

  He had been an idiot. And now he was playing with fire.

  Knuckles rapped tentatively on the glass panel in his door. He looked up and gestured for Ruby to come in.

  "Good morning, Adam," she said crisply. "I have another phone message for you." She walked to his desk and laid the pink slip on top of the others. Then she paused, unabashed, to study him. "Is everything all right?"

  He blinked. Why exactly was she asking? How transparent was he? "Everything’s fine," he insisted, guessing that he must look tired. "I’ve just been having trouble sleeping lately. I think it’s catching up to me."

  The secretary smiled tolerantly. "Your hours have been a little irregular this week. I’ve wondered what was going on, but I didn’t want to pry."

  Adam breathed deeply. He knew that he had been cruising for a lecture. Ruby was probably the world’s most efficient secretary, but she could also be the most difficult. She had worked with his predecessor, Reverend Diller, for seventeen years, and from Adam’s first day at work she had let him know just how impeccable her previous boss had been. Reverend Diller had always been on time. Reverend Diller had preached lovely sermons. Reverend Diller had always returned calls promptly, and he had never left a half-full cup of coffee on his desk overnight. Ruby Reichenbach had known Reverend Diller. Adam was no Reverend Diller.

  "A friend of mine has been having some personal problems," he answered, bending the truth only slightly. "I’ve been trying to help, but I’m not sure I’ve accomplished much."

  Ruby studied him another moment. "I’m sure you’re helping more than you know," she said politely, her mouth drawing into her own peculiar, painful-looking version of a smile. "But you do have to take care of yourself in the process."

  "You’re right about that," he said appreciatively. "Thank you."

  She smiled her tight smile once more, then walked out.

  Adam took a deep breath. Then he turned to his computer. Why had Sarah been looking at the ALDOT website? He had promised he would stop pestering her with questions, but he had never promised to stay out of her business entirely.

  He located the website and perused its contents for himself. Weather news. Emergency road closures. Alabama Homeland Security. Statewide Transportation Improvement Plan. He clicked into the latter and soon located a listing of construction projects in Lee County, including the bypass extension that affected Sarah’s farm. But the information given online was scant, consisting almost entirely of coded numbers and letters. What was Sarah looking for?

  A map, he thought grimly. It wasn’t enough for her to know that the house would be razed. She wanted to know exactly where the asphalt itself would be laid. But why?

  He closed his eyes. What he had first suspected when he saw the construction books in her house was seeming more and more likely. She didn’t want the house destroyed. What she was doing was trying to save it. There hadn’t seemed to be anything else in it that she wanted. But perhaps there was something else still there—something she was determined no one else should have.

  He clicked around for more information, but the site didn’t post specific construction maps. How would she get her hands on one? He clicked on Project Letting. The bypass was already underway; the maps would be in the hands of the contractors by now. Proposal Letting List. Low Bid Sheet.

  His fingers paused. Sarah had undoubtedly been looking for what he had just found—the name of the contractor on the project. She would contact them; ask her questions. But what would she do with the answers?

  He sat back in his chair, brooding.

  Sarah had lived in or around Auburn for seventeen years, and she hadn’t visited the area in five. It was a relatively small town, minus the university, yet while he was with her she hadn’t made a single phone call or looked up a single friend. She hadn’t even asked to stop at a familiar restaurant. She had liked the one that was new—and practically deserted. He believed all along that she was hiding from someone, and he still did. Was she afraid that the razing of her house might enable this man to find her again?

  His mind jogged back to the day she had collapsed on her steps. She had practically had a conniption when he had picked up her mail. He hadn’t meant to be nosy, but he couldn’t help but notice that the one letter she had already opened had a legal-looking return address. He had wondered then if she were being divorced, or sued, and if the distress of seeing the letter was what had caused her to pass out. Looking back now, he suspected it involved the eminent domain case. But why was Sarah being so secretive about it, even back then?

  A glimmer of an idea rose up in his mind. Perhaps there was something about the house itself. Something about the way it was built, something hidden within it or buried under it, the discovery of which would be sensational enough to attract public attention. Her name might be broadcast in the local media—perhaps along with her current location. It could lead the man right to her.

  To what lengths had she already gone to separate herself from her past? Was Landers even her real last name?

  "Adam?"

  He started, nearly tipping his chair. Ruby was standing just inside the door of his office, watching him. He hadn’t noticed her come in. "Yes?"

  She stepped closer. "Robert Pearson is out of the hospital. His wife said you mentioned coming by again, and she didn’t want you to waste a trip downtown. But he would love a visit at home if you have time."

  Adam nodded. "Of course. Thank you."

  "Also, Laurie is still waiting for your sermon title for the thirteenth. She needs to get The Spirit to the printer by Tuesday."

  "I’ll have it to her by the end of the day," he said optimistically, wondering just how generic a title he could come up with. He was behind on his sermons for August. He was behind on everything. He had lost control of his own brain.

  Ruby stared at him for a solid ten seconds, not saying a word. Then she turned on her heel and walked out again.

  Adam sat up in his chair, closed out the ALDOT site, and pulled the top phone message off his growing stack.

  Then he put it down again.

  How could he go about his normal life when Sarah was scrambling to stay hidden from a rapist? She had denied it when he had confronted her—denied it so fiercely and so convincingly that for a moment he had believed her. But he was afraid that taking her word for it would be wishful thinking. He shouldn’t be surprised that she would deny it. Such a reaction was common, practically typical. And she had been keeping the secret for a very long time.

  If only she would decide to trust him—to let him in. Why was she so convinced that no one else could help her? Why did she insist on fighting such a battle alone?

  Guilt. The answer flashed in his mind like a neon sign. Whatever trauma had befallen Sarah at that house, she still felt guilty about it. She thought it was her fault, and she was ashamed of it. She didn’t want anyone to know.

  His eyes moved to the picture at the edge of his desk. It was a photograph of Christine and himself at their seminary graduation. His jaws clenched.

  Guilt, at least, was an emotion he understood. Guilt at failing Christine when she became ill, yes. That was what everyone focused on. But no one knew about the rest of it, the worst of it. Not even Christine. At least that was what he had hoped. He could never bring himself to be honest with her; he had chosen to live the lie instead. He had ruined her young life, and then a brain tumor had ended it. That kind of guilt couldn’t easily be washed away. He preached about forgiveness, he believed in it, he practiced it. But forgiving himself, when it came to Christine, wasn’t possible. He could not bear even to think about it.

  His intercom beeped. Apparently, Ruby was getting tired of walking back and forth. He pushed a button. "Yes?"

  "Can you tak
e a call from Hillary Phillips? On line two?"

  "Sure thing."

  Hillary Phillips, an attractive young RN who was interested in spearheading a church wellness program, reminded him of Sarah. At least in height and coloring. But Sarah was thinner and shapelier, with those mesmerizing blue eyes…

  He punched a button on the phone. "Hello, Hillary?"

  He heard nothing. He pushed two more buttons in succession. Then he realized he’d made a mistake.

  Within seconds, Ruby appeared at his door again.

  He looked up sheepishly. "I think I cut her off."

  Ruby nodded solemnly. She approached his desk. "Reverend Carmassi," she began, arching her left eyebrow high. "I may look young, but I wasn’t born yesterday."

  He stared. Ruby was in her early fifties, but didn’t look a day under sixty-five. "What do you—"

  She raised a hand. "If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine by me. But don’t go skulking around acting like it’s some secret. That’s not healthy. Besides, everyone in the office already knows."

  He shook his head in confusion. "Already knows what?"

  She let out a long, dramatic sigh. "That there’s a woman in your life, of course." Her dour mouth flipped into a bona fide grin. "And personally, I’d say it’s high time."

  ***

  Adam stared at the clock on his desk, willing its stubborn hands to move. The entire day had proceeded at a crawl, but the afternoon had been particularly agonizing. He had caught up on his phone messages and made two house visits, but he could get nowhere on the August sermons. He could think of nothing but how to get through to Sarah, and despite his protestations that he was only helping a friend, every time Ruby or Laurie caught him staring at the walls, they grinned at him like schoolgirls.