A Cup of Silver Linings

by Karen Hawkins

   CHAPTER 14  Sarah

  Sarah rested her head against the couch cushion and gently pressed an ice pack to her hot, swollen eyes. How could Ava do that to me? And then hide it for so many y—

  “Here you go.”

  Sarah lowered the ice pack.

  Grace, still dressed for work in her suit and heels, walked across her living room holding out a knee-length pajama shirt. “It’s huge. You’re going to love it.”

  Sarah set the ice pack aside and took the shirt. “I can’t believe I forgot to pack pajamas.” She hadn’t brought socks, either, but that was tomorrow’s problem.

  “You left in a hurry. It happens.” Grace went to the fireplace and used the brass poker to stir the crackling flames, sending out new warmth.

  “Thank you for letting me stay here.”

  Grace, who’d immediately gone to the library on receiving Sarah’s call, had taken one look at her tear-streaked face and announced that, as the mayor, she was allowed to close the library under “emergency circumstances.” She’d then locked up the library and swept Sarah off to her house.

  No one had ever had a better friend. Sarah managed a tremulous smile. “You’re the best.”

  Grace flushed, obviously pleased. “Thank you. Back atcha.” She put the poker down and came to sit on the couch next to Sarah. “Feeling any better?”

  “The ice pack helped a lot. My eyes are so swollen they hurt.”

  “Crying can do that. When Mama G passed, I thought I’d never stop.”

  The fire crackled noisily as a log settled, the sound comforting. “It’s so cozy here since you and Daisy moved in with Trav.”

  “He’s been great. I didn’t have to give up one stick of Mama G’s furniture.” Grace looked around the room. “Fortunately, he wasn’t attached to any of his stuff except a few pieces that had belonged to his dad. We kept all of those, of course. You know how it is, living with another person—you have to make compromises.”

  “Until they lie to you and then hide it.”

  Grace’s expression softened. “Why don’t you put on that shirt and get comfy?”

  Sarah held the pajama shirt at arm’s length so she could see the graphic on the back. “Power Rangers?”

  Grace said solemnly, “It’s one of my most prized possessions.”

  “I bet. It looks super comfy.” Sarah folded the shirt and put it beside the book she’d brought from the library with her.

  The book seemed to take this as an invitation, because it immediately murmured, You should read me. That would make you feel better.

  Sarah always brought books home from the library, but this one had been far more insistent than most. She eyed it now, THE FUNDAMENTALS OF BALLROOM DANCING written in script. Why, oh why, did she need to learn ballroom dancing? Was she destined to be in one of those classes where single ladies took turns dancing with each other while imagining the partners of their dreams? Blake would never be caught dead at one of those.

  She winced. I have to stop thinking about him. I have to. Sarah picked up the sleep shirt and dropped it over the book. It murmured with irritation but took the hint and quieted down.

  Grace settled deeper into the couch. She nodded to the book. “What’s going on?”

  Sarah grimaced. “It wanted to come with me, but it’s chatty. Too chatty.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Ballroom dancing.”

  “Oh! Thinking of taking a class?”

  “No. Some books just get lonely and want to visit.” From under the sleep shirt, the book murmured a protest. “This one wants to be read, though.”

  “I didn’t know you could learn to dance from a book.”

  “I doubt anyone could.” The book protested more loudly at that, so she reached for the sweater she’d taken off earlier and piled it on top of the shirt. “There,” she told it. “Be quiet. I’ll read you later.” Before bed, on the off chance it might help her sleep. As if.

  Grace shook her head. “You and your books.”

  “I’m glad to have them. They never lie to me.” She didn’t think books could lie. Even fiction, especially when well written, stayed true to its voice and purpose, no matter what happened between the pages.

  Grace glanced at Sarah’s phone, which was facedown on the coffee table. “I’m surprised Ava isn’t calling you.”

  “I have it on silent. I can’t talk to her.” Mainly because Sarah didn’t know exactly what to do with all the emotions that were tumbling through her, alternating between hurt and fury. She’d never been so crushed, so devastated. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she’d lost Blake for good, or because she’d lost every last ounce of trust and respect for her own sister. It’s probably both.

  Grace sighed. “I wish you’d rethink moving out. I love having you next door. It’s one of the best things about living here.”

  “I’ll miss you guys too.” Sarah would also miss her huge bedroom with its large windows, antique pink-flowered wallpaper, and the wrought-iron bed she’d had since she was a kid. She glanced at the window where she could see the edge of the huge wraparound porch. Her house was so close, and yet it felt far, far away. “I feel like my whole life has been ripped apart. There was no one I trusted more than Ava.”

  “She was wrong, but…” Grace’s eyebrows drew down. “I know you want to move out, and I support you, whatever you do. But I think you should hold off on making any big decisions right now. You’re angry, and with reason, but you grew up in that house. And you and Ava have always been so close. Maybe you’ll find a way—”

  “No. I can’t live with her now. I just can’t.” Sarah’s chest had been aching ever since that evil book had whispered its ugly secret, but now an extra weight pressed against her. In ten short minutes, she’d lost her home, her sister, and the love of her life. How could she do that to me? How could she keep a secret from me for all those years? All those times I told her how I felt about Blake and she just sat there! And then Blake—

  Sarah covered her face with both hands. “I’ve got to stop thinking! My mind just keeps hopping from horrible thought to horrible thought over and over and over, and it hurts like I’m touching a hot stove.”

  “You’ve had a shock. It’s going to take some time to adjust.”

  Sarah dropped her hands to her lap. “Adjust? How do I adjust to the fact that my sister has been lying to me for years? And there I was, so stupidly unaware that I didn’t even suspect it.”

  “Why would you suspect it? Ava loves you. We all know that. You know that.”

  Did she know that? Right now Sarah couldn’t say. “She’s lucky our mother isn’t alive. She’d have rung a bell over Ava for what she did. Momma brought us up better than that.”

  Grace’s eyebrows rose, and she said in a thoughtful tone, “Whew. What your momma must have gone through. Raising my niece is hard enough, and she can’t do any of the things you all can.” Grace tilted her head to one side, her expression serious. “When I first moved to Dove Pond, I didn’t believe a word people said about you Doves. But then you always knew what book I needed to read, and I saw the good Ava’s teas were doing for Mama G when nothing else worked.… I believe now. I really do.”

  Sarah sighed. “Not everyone does, but that’s okay. Momma used to say it was their loss, not ours.”

  “You and Ava have always done so much good, but…” Grace grimaced. “What about this book she’d locked away? Is it possible it has another tonic that could rectify things?”

  “I’ve already looked. Even if there was, I’d be afraid to use it. That book is…” Sarah had to fight a shiver. That book was unlike any book she’d ever seen. The pages were soaked with fury and hate.

  After her fight with Ava, Sarah had taken the book to the library. The entire way there, it had suggested vile potions and evil curses so disturbing that Sarah had locked it in a heavy metal cabinet in the library archives, far enough away to silence its strident fury. “If I thought it was safe to destroy it,
I would.”

  Grace’s eyes widened. “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s worse. Every book carries the aura of its author. If the author is funny or emotional or just plain mean, then no matter the topic, a hint of that lingers within the pages. After being around that book, I’m glad I never knew my great-great-great-aunt Mildred. The book being locked away didn’t help.”

  “It’s a pity you never heard it calling out.”

  Sarah agreed. Ava must have used a heck of a good charm on that old shoebox. Sighing, Sarah looked out the window to where the wind tangled with the tree branches. This morning’s sunshine was long gone, the world now covered in gray clouds. Which is appropriate, given everything that’s happened.

  She sighed restlessly. “I hate that Blake is involved in this mess.”

  “I’m not happy with him right now. He was rude to you. Sure, he can be mad at Ava if he wants, but you? That’s not right.”

  “He was shocked.”

  “So were you. Instead of understanding what you were going through, he roared in, announced he was going on a date, of all things, and then stomped out. I’d have smacked him if it had been me.”

  Sarah gave a tired smile. “I can’t blame him for being mad.” She dropped her head back against the couch cushions. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Blake’s furious expression, which made her wince.

  Grace said in a cautious tone, “Look, if you don’t want talk about it, I understand, but what exactly is your history with Blake? You’ve said that something happened between the two of you in high school and that it ruined things, but you’ve never shared the details.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Grace gave her a wry smile. “That much I guessed.”

  Sarah sighed. “I’ve liked him for what seems like forever. At first, it was just one of those normal kid things, but always off-kilter. You know, I liked him, but he didn’t like me. And then he’d like me, but I wouldn’t like him. We could never get our timing right, but things were… interesting. Or they were until the year after Momma died; that’s when The Incident happened.” Sarah winced. “For a while, that was all this town talked about.”

  “Small-town problems.”

  Sarah nodded. “I’m glad you didn’t live here then. I embarrassed myself so badly. Now I know it was because of Ava’s tea, but at the time, I thought it was just me, and I was crazy for him. Sadly, like most high schoolers, I had no filter.” Sarah thought about this. “I don’t really have much of a filter now either.”

  Grace chuckled. “Which is why we all love you. But what exactly was The Incident?”

  “Ugh. I hate even thinking about it.” Sarah rubbed her face with both hands. “One day, wildly in love with Blake, I decided to act. And, Grace, I didn’t just love him, I was obsessed. Now I know why, but it felt so real. What really sent me over the edge was when, to my wonder of wonders, he suddenly noticed me, too. I thought that, for once, we felt the same way at the same time. He started talking to me and smiling and…” She dropped her hands back to her lap. “I was over the moon. I was so sure we were meant to be together that I planned a very public display of our newfound love.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes. I just had to show him how much I loved him.” She winced. “It was Homecoming Week, so on the water tower over the football field right before the big game, in huge four-foot-high letters, I painted SARAH LOVES BLAKE MCINTYRE. HOMECOMING DANCE?”

  Grace covered her eyes. “Nooooo!”

  “Yep.”

  Grace peeked out between her fingers. “Everyone teased him, didn’t they?”

  “Mercilessly.”

  Grace dropped her hands back to her lap. “Kids can be so cruel.”

  “His teammates, the cheerleaders, the other team, every single person there laughed and pointed. During halftime, someone even started a Blake-take-your-girl-to-Homecoming-she’s-desperate chant. He was embarrassed, and so was I.”

  “Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry.”

  “It was my own fault.”

  “No, it was Ava’s. You were under the influence, remember?”

  “I guess. All I know is that it was brutal. It really affected him, too. He was really, really good at football, but that game was his worst. He fumbled the ball left and right and read plays wrong. It was bad. But the worst part was at the end of the game.”

  “There’s more? I’m afraid to ask.”

  “We lost, of course, and as the team headed off the field, someone yelled, ‘Blake, are you going to ask Sarah to Homecoming?’ and he stopped, looked directly at me, and said, ‘When hell freezes over!’ ”

  Grace let out her breath in a long whoosh. “Wow. Sarah, I’m so, so sorry.”

  “Me too. I tried to apologize, but you know how I get around him. It was worse after that, too. And that’s pretty much where I am today.” Sarah shuddered. “It’s been agony.”

  “And Ava knew it.”

  “She knew everything. She’s hugged me while I cried, watched me struggle for years trying to talk to him, and knew how desperately I wanted to connect with him but couldn’t. She used to tell me to be patient, that he wasn’t worth it, and… oh God, all sorts of things that weren’t true and—” Sarah’s voice caught. “Not once did she tell me what she’d done.”

  “What she did was wrong. But, Sarah, surely there’s still reason for hope. I’ve watched Blake try to talk to you hundreds of times since I moved here. He’s done it as recently as Saturday. Surely that means something. He wouldn’t keep trying if he didn’t want the same things you do.”

  “He’s done,” Sarah said morosely. “He’s washed his hands of the Doves. And I can’t blame him.” She sighed, picked up a pillow, and hugged it. “Grace, I like him so, so much. Too much. And now, because of Ava’s stupid tea, I don’t know if it’s real or not.” That was the hardest part, not being able to trust her own feelings.

  The book under the sweater whispered, Maybe if you learned to dance you’d—

  Sarah plopped her pillow on it.

  Grace reached over and patted Sarah’s knee. “Stop looking so glum. Things aren’t as bad as they seem. I promise.”

  “I just don’t know what to say to Ava. I’m so angry at her.”

  “Then don’t say anything. Not for a while, at least. Let yourself heal. When you’re ready, you’ll know what to do.”

  Sarah hoped that was true.

  A log dropped in the fire, sending out a few sparks. Grace watched as the flames settled. “I knew something was going on with Ava. She hasn’t been herself for a while now.”

  “She hasn’t been sleeping well for months. I just thought she was worried about the tearoom and the messed-up teas, but it was that secret, trying to break free.”

  Grace started to say something, but then hesitated. After a moment, she said, “What Ava said a few weeks ago about those messed-up teas was true, right? That she had eliminated the problem?”

  “Yes,” Sarah said, surprised at the flash of irritation Grace’s question caused. “I was there when she figured out what happened. The plant that caused it is at the house now.”

  Grace threw her hands up. “Sorry! But now that I know Ava’s lied to you, of all people, then who wouldn’t she lie to? If I was using a Dove tea right now and I heard about what happened between the two of you and how she hid it, added to the fact that she had some messed-up teas less than a month ago…” Grace shrugged. “I’ll be honest, Sarah. Right now, I’d be afraid to use anything she made.”

  Oh dear. Sarah hadn’t thought of that. “I hope other people don’t think that way.”

  “Me too.” Grace sighed. “Maybe I’m overreacting. When Mama G was on the decline with her Alzheimer’s, I don’t know what we would have done without the tea Ava made for her. It was the only thing that helped.”

  “Well, I’m not going to tell anyone what happened between Ava and me. I’m sure you and Trav will keep it quiet too.”

  “Do you really think it’s
possible to keep something like this quiet here in Dove Pond? People are going to notice that you and Ava aren’t living together and are no longer talking to each other. Plus, Blake’s so furious, I don’t think you can expect him to keep it to himself.”

  Geez, this was so much more complicated than Sarah had realized. “I guess you’re right. Everyone will be talking.” She could almost picture it. Wincing, she rubbed her face with both hands, trying to free herself from her own imagination. “I shouldn’t have called him when I found out what had happened.”

  “I’m surprised you did. What were you thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought he had as much of a right to know as I did.” Not that it had helped anything. He was so angry. I hate that.

  Grace patted Sarah’s knee. “You need a margarita.”

  “I might need more than one.”

  “I’ll make a pitcher.” Grace got up, and then slipped off her suit jacket and hung it neatly over a chair. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Sarah rested her head against the overstuffed cushions and looked out the window at the gray sky. As if sensing her mood, the sky rumbled with thunder.

  She pulled one of Grace’s decorative pillows into her lap and absently traced the embroidered surface. How could Ava do that to me? And for all those years? How could she—

  “Stop it!” Sarah told herself and then buried her face in the pillow, closing her eyes against the grayness outside, wishing she could block her own thoughts as easily. I have to stop asking myself questions I can’t answer. It won’t help anything.

  She was so confused right now. She owed Ava so much. I was so grateful to her for being there when Momma died—I still am. I just don’t understand why she didn’t just tell me what happened—

  “Here we go!” Grace placed a tray holding two glasses, a small plate of salt, and a pitcher of margaritas on the coffee table in front of Sarah.

  “That was quick.”

  “I had a mix, so it wasn’t that complicated.”

  Sarah eyed the huge flowered pitcher. “That’s like, what, a gallon pitcher?”