Chapter 51
Sarah felt the warm rays of the sun on her bare neck and shoulders the next morning as she pushed the bird feeder into the soil of the potted miniature yellow rose in the corner of her balcony.
Hands on hips, she stood back to admire it. The red cedar offset the yellow in the flowers perfectly. She walked back inside and wrote birdseed on the shopping list attached to her fridge. She checked her watch. Time to leave for her first day back on day shifts at Glen Acres. She made sure everything was locked, then bolted from her apartment.
When she stepped into work half an hour later, Sarah glanced at the closed door to her right then looked back at Debbie behind the desk. “Is Paul in?”
She should thank him properly for the shift change.
“He called in sick.” With a raised eyebrow that clearly hinted at interest in possible gossip, Debbie added, “Is there a message you’d like me to leave Mr. Parker?”
Sarah shook her head, “No thanks.”
As she walked away, Sarah thought she noticed stares and whispers from other staff members. What was going on? One woman, with creases around her hazel eyes, a newspaper tucked under one arm, approached Sarah with a compassionate expression on her face.
She rubbed Sarah’s upper arm, “I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?”
The woman’s features darkened, “You don’t know?”
“Don’t know what?”
Without speaking, the woman gave Sarah the newspaper. Sarah unfolded it and read the headline: Diva of Romance at it again: Scott-Jackson’s previous claims confirmed.
Sarah sensed her face heating as she skimmed the article. One part stood out.
Linda claims a conversation took place between herself and Sarah Woodward during the Southern Romance Writers Convention at Charlotte on the weekend. She alleged that Sarah told her Joan had been cutting their sessions short also. “Somebody has to start challenging this behavior,” Scott-Jackson said.
Sarah lifted a hand to her mouth, “Oh my God.”
She crumpled the paper and shoved it back into the other woman’s arms, then ran toward the nurse’s station, where her bag was located. How could she explain this to Joan, and Charles, when she still didn’t understand why she’d spoken to the woman herself?
He answered on the second ring. That had to be a good sign. At least he wasn’t ignoring her.
“Did you see the paper?”
“I did.”
She took a deep breath in, “Please don’t be mad, but . . . I did talk to Linda.”
A loud exhale from Charles made her stomach flip. He was angry.
“Sarah––”
“I know, but I was curious about her. I didn’t say anything negative about you or Joan. She came to her own conclusions about our sessions. I didn’t say those things.”
“But you didn’t deny them either?”
She swallowed the sudden dryness from her throat. It wouldn’t help to lie. “No, I didn’t.” The silence from the other end drew out. Had she blown it? “Charles?”
“Why did you tell me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could’ve said the media had made it up and I would’ve believed you.”
Where was he going with this? “That would’ve been a lie.”
“As simple as that?”
“Of course.”
An incredulous scoff sounded over the line.
“Have I ruined everything?”
“Not even a little. Thank you for being so honest with me, Sarah. I’ve never . . .”
***
He had to use every ounce of control to stop himself from finishing the sentence: “I’ve never met anyone like you before.” Most of the people he knew would’ve taken the easy way out and lied, but she’d told him the truth. Even though she’d anticipated his anger and guessed it could have ended the mentorship. Her honesty was one of the many reasons he was in love with her.
“I’m so sorry.”
The sweet tone to the words shook his heart.
He smiled, “I know. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later.”
He hung up without waiting for her to respond. Otherwise he’d end up saying or doing something he’d regret. Something like, “I love you, Sarah Woodward.”