Borrowed Time

by Edie Claire

  Maybe even hatred.

  "No," she answered firmly. "That won’t be necessary. I’ll just take a cab back to work for now. Then I can give the matter some more thought." She smiled superficially, attempting to convince the doctor her judgment was sound.

  She should have known better. Melissa rose up in her chair, her hazel eyes blazing. "I’m afraid that’s not an option, Sarah," she replied coolly. "My recommendation is that you be hospitalized immediately. I have to insist on that."

  Sarah rose. She tried to keep her voice firm, but polite. "I understand your position, and I don’t blame you for being irritated with me. But this is my choice. I don’t want any treatment. Not right now."

  Not ever.

  "If you won’t follow my recommendation," the doctor continued, her voice grave, "I’ll be forced to dismiss you from the practice. You’re taking your life in your hands, Sarah, and I can’t have that kind of disaster on either my professional record or my conscience."

  "I understand," Sarah returned quickly, grabbing her purse. "I don’t blame you at all. You’ve been wonderful. Thank you. Just send me a bill."

  Melissa’s face changed. The frustration and annoyance was still there, but it was tempered by something else. "And what about Adam?" she asked forcefully. "How do you think he’ll take your decision?"

  Sarah averted her eyes. "My wellbeing is no longer his concern." She stepped toward the door, but Melissa, who was in her path, showed no signs of moving.

  "Is there anything I can say to change your mind?"

  Sarah looked back at the doctor’s face, and guilt pummeled her. The poor woman truly did care, if not about her, then at least about Adam. Melissa was speaking as a woman now, not as a doctor. "I’m afraid not," Sarah replied mildly. "But thank you for trying."

  Melissa offered a slow nod. Still, she didn’t move. She contemplated for several seconds, her mind seeming to race behind her eyes. When she spoke again, her tone was level. "There is one more thing that might help. If you won’t go to the hospital, there is a lesser treatment, very safe, that might at least help you with the driving issue. If you’d be willing to give it a try, I can have the materials ready in twenty minutes."

  Sarah considered, but not for long. She was in no hurry to return to another smoky taxicab, now or in the future. "All right," she agreed.

  Melissa smiled tightly. She led Sarah out of her office and into an exam room down the hall. Then she closed the door.

  Chapter 32

  Without so much as a hello, Melissa grabbed Adam’s arm and pulled him through the waiting room and into the reception area behind.

  "I don’t know what she’s thinking," the doctor began, expanding on what little information she had given him over the phone. "But you’ve got to talk some sense into her. Letting this arrhythmia go is tantamount to suicide. I’m compromising any number of ethical principles by bringing you down here and telling you all this, but it’s for her own good." She paused, her sharp eyes resting sympathetically on his. "And yours."

  Adam swallowed. Melissa’s phone call had frightened him. He had waited all afternoon and evening yesterday for another chance to talk to Sarah, but Rose had insisted she was asleep—and needed to be. When he’d shown up at Sarah’s door this morning, she was already gone, leaving nothing but a terse note explaining that she would be taking cabs to work from now on. He had planned to confront her at the library at lunchtime, but he’d barely gotten settled in at his own desk before Melissa had called to demand that he come to her office—ASAP.

  "She’s refusing treatment?" he asked, his thoughts muddled. All he had learned yesterday was still not enough to explain Sarah’s present actions. He understood her mortification, her anger at him for invading her privacy. But he had tried his best to be supportive, rather than judgmental. Shouldn’t some part of her be relieved? Anxious to talk it through? No. She was running again.

  "She’s waiting around because I told her I wanted to try one more thing," Melissa explained, leading him down a corridor, then stopping short of an exam room door. "I didn’t tell her it was you. Good luck, Adam."

  The doctor put her hand on his arm and squeezed. Then she pulled a chart from the wall and disappeared into another room.

  Adam took a breath. He knocked on the door.

  "Come in," Sarah’s voice called.

  He obliged. He watched her eyes carefully as she recognized him, and he was not disappointed. All too soon, they were filled with nothing but the indignation he knew would be coming. But she couldn’t hide what happened first. At the unexpected sight of him, their blue depths had lit up like sunshine.

  She averted her gaze. Her tone was cool. "I’m beginning to think you just like seeing me in hospital gowns."

  He grinned. "You’re not in a hospital gown now."

  "No, but you didn’t know that."

  He walked up to where she was sitting on the exam table, her shapely legs dangling over the edge like a child’s. He hopped up and sat down beside her. The table issued an ominous creak.

  "We didn’t finish our conversation yesterday," he said lightly.

  "Oh? I thought we had. You realized you were wrong about me, and I realized I needed to get on with my life."

  He turned his head to look at her. The woman was maddening. What was she thinking? He tried hard to keep his voice in check. If she insisted on playing this emotional deadpan, at least she was calm. He had no desire to see a repeat of last night’s hysteria.

  "Well, neither of those is accurate, I’m afraid. I’ve never been wrong about you—at least not about anything important—and you’re not getting on with your life at all. Melissa seems to think you’re trying to end it."

  She showed no visible reaction. Her tone chilled him. "And what if I am?"

  He sat still for a moment, stunned. Then he slid off the table and turned to face her, his voice heavy. "Don’t even joke about that."

  Her eyes met his. Miserable. Remorseful. "I told you before, Adam," she said quietly. "I don’t want to hurt you. My life is a complete mess, and it’s only going to get worse. Do the smart thing and cut your losses."

  Adam’s face burned with heat. She wasn’t joking. She wanted to die. And judging by Melissa’s sense of urgency, she might do just that—unless he could get through to her. But how could he? He was no miracle worker. All he ever did was pray hard and fly by the seat of his pants, and this time nothing was working. What else could he possibly do? Yell at her? Shake her? Kiss her?

  "I won’t give up on you, Sarah," he blurted.

  "I don’t know why not," she answered. "You already know enough about me to send you screaming into the hills. I don’t even understand why you’re here."

  He held her gaze, his tone even. "That should be obvious. I’m here because I love you."

  She stared back at him, her eyes wide. Her face paled, even as a flush of heat flared in her cheeks. "No," she said stubbornly. "You can’t."

  He took a much-needed breath. "I assure you that I can. And I do. It took me a while to recognize it, seeing as how the feeling is a first for me. But when I saw you sitting there in church yesterday and all two-hundred or so other faces faded into the woodwork, I knew. You were all I saw—all I could think about. You still are."

  She slid off the table, her eyes fixed on the floor.

  "I’m telling you," he continued, "I’m hooked. And there isn’t anything you can do about it. So I would appreciate it if you would stop wasting your energy trying to get rid of me and resign yourself to the fact that I’m going to help you through this. All of it."

  Sarah stepped away from him. She was attempting to restrain tears, but she was failing. "The only fact here is that you’re going to get hurt even worse than I thought. I’m sorry. I didn’t want that. I’m sorry I ever moved to Pittsburgh."

  "Don’t say that!" he answered roughly, struggling to keep his composure. She was scaring and infuriating him at the same time.

  "I’m leaving, Adam," she announced with
sudden fortitude. "I’m…moving back to Alabama."

  "You are not!" he fired back, the struggle lost. "You’re going to check into the hospital and get this arrhythmia treated. Today."

  She whirled around, her eyes blazing. "I’m not going to get it treated at all! I’ll sign whatever forms Melissa wants me to sign, but I won’t do anything else."

  Adam grabbed hold of both her arms and pulled her to him. His voice rose. "You could die from this, Sarah! Don’t you get that? Don’t you care?"

  Her own voice rose to nearly a shriek. "No! I don’t!"

  Adam released her, stunned. She turned her back on him.

  Her voice seemed to come from far away. Faint, wispy. "I’ve never wanted to die as much as I do right now. You’re the most wonderful man—the most wonderful person—I’ve ever met. And I’ve brought you nothing but grief. You have to let me go."

  Adam’s pulse pounded. He stepped around to face her again. He let a hand drift down her jawbone, then lifted it, forcing her to look at him. "Don’t do this to me, Sarah," he warned, his deep voice beseeching. "Don’t do it. It’s not fair."

  "I know that," she answered, her voice cracking.

  "Then cut it out!" he ordered. "If you insist on trying to walk out of my life, the least you can do is tell my why. You owe me that."

  He watched with bated breath as, deep in her eyes, something crumbled. He saw within her a look of final defeat—defeat tempered with a queer sort of relief. The sight was a long-desired one, but he was far too alarmed now to feel elation.

  "Yes," she answered quietly. "You’re right. I do owe you that, don’t I?" Her eyes welled up with tears again, and she swiped at her cheeks to stem them. "We might as well get it over with now. Maybe it will be easier for you."

  Adam winced at the tone of her voice, the bitter edge to her words. He had never seen any person so contorted with guilt, including himself.

  "You want to know what really happened in Alabama?" she asked, her voice high, unnatural.

  "You know I do," he answered.

  Her blue eyes went blank. Her limbs grew stiff with tension. "That’s because you think I’m an innocent victim of circumstances. But I’m not. What I am is a criminal. I’ve been running for over nine years now, trying to amuse myself the best I could until it all caught up with me. Well, now it has, and I could be arrested at any time. I didn’t want any of my friends to have to witness that spectacle, which is why I left Kansas City in the first place. I wasn’t supposed to make new friends. See what a great job I did of that? See how gallantly I put everyone else’s interests ahead of my own?"

  Her voice was unsteady; her lips quivered. Adam was worried about her heart, but the more she spoke, the more worried he became about the rest of her. It could not be as she was saying. It simply couldn’t. She wasn’t seeing the situation clearly. She was exaggerating.

  "Arrested for what?" he asked softly.

  "What do you think?!" she railed, her voice nearing a scream. Any second Melissa or one of the nurses would open the door to check on her. Once they did, the moment would be lost. He had to finish this.

  "What do I think?" he answered boldly, taking a chance. "I think that a man assaulted your sister in that house, and I think you were there and watched it happen. I think she fought back, and somehow or other, she killed him. Then she convinced you to help her cover it up. And you did, because you wanted to protect her."

  Sarah’s eyes were wild. Her entire body trembled. "Well, you’re wrong!" she shouted. "Dee didn’t kill him, Adam! I did. Do you hear me? I killed him! I smashed his skull in, and I left his body to rot! That’s the kind of person I am! Do you get it now?"

  Melissa stormed through the door. She threw Adam a sharp look as she went to Sarah. "What are you yelling about?" she chastised with a fury.

  Sarah didn’t answer. She was breathing heavily. Too heavily. Adam’s own heart had ceased to beat. Melissa lifted her stethoscope and placed it on Sarah’s chest. She didn’t listen for long. "Lay down, Sarah," she said sternly, leading her patient back to the exam table. An assistant appeared at the door, and Melissa barked out more orders.

  Adam didn’t hear the specifics. He stood obediently out of the way, but his eyes were on Sarah. She was pale. Deathly pale. When she lay down, her eyes closed. Her chest was heaving.

  Melissa was speaking to him. "You’ll have to wait outside. What just happened here? What were you thinking?"

  He didn’t answer. His voice wasn’t working.

  Sarah had killed a man. He had attacked her sister, and she had killed him. She had done it in Dee’s defense. She had to have. Yet she had spoken of the act as if it were murder.

  Had she never shared her story with anyone else? Never had any help to distinguish concrete fact from the distorted impressions of an overwrought seventeen-year-old girl? Was she so traumatized then, so ashamed, that she couldn’t see the events even halfway objectively, even now?

  Or was there more to the story? Was there some malevolence, some darkness in Sarah that he had willfully failed to see?

  Melissa looked up at him, then softened her tone. "I’m sorry for snapping at you, Adam. I’m sure you were doing the best you could. But for now, just go back outside and have a seat in the waiting room. Please?"

  He hesitated. His eyes filled with the sight of Sarah’s thin frame stretched out on the table, and the grim possibilities spun uncontrollably in his head—a fierce, furious tornado of horrors that seemed bent on buffeting his hard-won confidence.

  Then he clenched his jaws tight.

  He straightened his shoulders, and he nodded.

  Chapter 33

  Sarah heard the door open and shut. She sensed that someone was standing in the room, watching her, but she kept her eyes closed. She felt light-headed. Dizzy. Disconnected from the irrelevant body that lay on the exam table, once again tethered to a machine by a series of pesky, taped-on wires.

  The visitor approached her bedside. She felt a hand touch her shoulder, and she knew without opening her eyes that it was Adam. Her face flushed with heat.

  He shouldn’t be here. He should be gone by now. Whatever the Methodist version of last rites was, she wasn’t interested. She especially wasn’t interested in hearing him explain—oh, so tactfully—how very much he cared about her soul, but that she had to understand, whatever had been between the two of them before, well, now it just wasn’t feasible…

  "Sarah?"

  She swallowed. She kept her eyes shut. "I’m awake. What do you want?"

  There was a pause. She could picture him in her mind. He would be clenching that little muscle in his cheek now—biting back whatever sharp retort had sprung into his mind, replacing it with something ministerial.

  "I want you to open your eyes."

  He didn’t sound ministerial. He sounded rather forceful. Not angry, exactly—but determined.

  "And I want you to leave," she shot back.

  "Open your eyes."

  She took in a deep breath, then let it out slowly, as Melissa had coached her. Sarah knew that if she lost consciousness now, the doctor would whisk her straight to the hospital. She could only refuse if she were lucid.

  "Why?" she asked calmly.

  The exam table squeaked as Adam leaned his weight against it, resting one arm above her head and the other at her side. She could feel his face close to hers.

  "Because I want you to look at me."

  Sarah’s eyes burned. She might have cried again, but there didn’t seem to be any tears available.

  She didn’t answer.

  "I know what you’re afraid of, Sarah," his deep voice rumbled, softly. "It took me a while, but I figured it out."

  His tone had turned tender now, beguiling. But she would not be suckered as to his intentions. No minister worth his vestments would let her commit suicide without a fight.

  "I don’t want to go to the hospital, Adam," she asserted. "And I know enough about my rights as a patient to know that no one can make me. I
hereby absolve you of all responsibility—you did your best. Now please, just go away and forget about me. I want you to be happy."

  "You really mean that?" he said, his voice oddly optimistic.

  "Yes!"

  Her only warning was a creaking of the table. In a flash his position shifted, and his lips were pressed to hers. Shocked, she reached up to push him away, but the kiss was as gentle as it was unexpected, and she felt herself melting to it, her arms encircling his waist, her affection-starved senses clamoring for comfort.

  She forgot about keeping her eyes closed.

  When at last he lifted his head and looked at her, she stared straight back at him.

  He smiled. "You thought my feelings would change if I knew," he whispered. "You were wrong."

  Her heart beat fast as she searched his face, his deep brown eyes. She had been so sure she would see revulsion. Regret. A patronizing sort of pity.

  All she could see was love.

  His warm hand picked up her cool one. He held it close to his face, his moist breath tickling her fingers. "We never got to finish the conversation I started last night—about my guilt over Christine. You missed the important part."

  Sarah could only stare. She didn’t understand why he was talking about Christine now. She didn’t understand anything.

  His eyes held hers. "When I saw you sitting in that church pew yesterday, I finally understood what it meant to be in love. Raw, full-fledged, gut-twisting, butterfly-fluttering love. I realized that the feeling has nothing to do with appropriateness, much less hard work. It’s something one has no control over.

  "All this time, I thought that I had sabotaged my marriage by yearning for some fanciful feeling that didn’t exist, or worse yet, that it did exist, but that I hadn’t tried hard enough to get it. Yesterday, I finally understood. I know now that there was nothing more I could have done. I loved Christine as much as was within my power to love her."

  Sarah’s lips curved into a smile. He had indeed seemed happy, after church. Had she been able to do something good for him, after all?