Finding Home (23 page)

“I…” Sarah’s voice cracked, so she cleared her throat and swallowed, cradling her left arm in her right. “I think so. My arm hurts.”

“I know. How ’bout we sit down? Hmm?” Natalie held Sarah’s good arm and helped her lower herself to the grass. Then she sat next to her, very close, and wrapped a protective arm

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around her waist. Reaching for the sleeve of Sarah’s left arm, she said quietly, “Let’s have a look at that, okay?” She unbuttoned the cuff and gingerly began rolling the fabric away from Sarah’s skin, apologizing as Sarah winced.

Several people had begun to mill around in their general vicinity, having heard the commotion. A college-age young man approached them and gallantly pulled his T-shirt off.

“You should probably wrap that up,” he suggested gently as he handed the shirt to Natalie. “Direct pressure?”

She smiled her gratitude at him. “You’re absolutely right.

Thanks.” She wrapped the cotton around Sarah’s forearm tightly and held it there, this time wincing along with her at the pain.

“Sorry, sweetie.”

Sarah leaned her head on Natalie’s shoulder. “I don’t feel so good.”

“I know. Just a few more minutes, okay?” She scanned the area, her eyes landing on the man, and raised her eyebrows in question.

He approached them, having handed his attack dog off to a woman. He was still sweating and his skin was as deathly pale as Sarah’s. “The ambulance is on its way,” he said, his face sheepish.

“I am so sorry.” His eyes were kind, and Natalie abruptly felt bad for him, despite her anger. The broken leash was proof that maybe he wasn’t just some irresponsible pet owner.

“Will you come with me?” Sarah asked her suddenly, sounding almost like a frightened child.

“Of course I will.” Not wanting to leave her side to search for Sarah’s cell, Natalie looked back at the man and asked, “Can I borrow your phone?” He handed it over without a word and she quickly dialed Andrea’s number, ordering her to the park immediately, offering little explanation other than, “I need you here. Follow the ambulance.”

Though it was only a few minutes, it felt like years before Natalie could hear the siren in the distance. She kept a tight hold on Sarah’s arm, her gaze shifting from the woman to the dog

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and back again. Bentley seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation, lying in the grass next to Sarah with a worried look in his eyes. He rested his chin on her thigh and watched her carefully.

The parking lot was visible from where they sat, and Andrea’s car pulled in just after the ambulance. Natalie felt a rush of affection, not wanting to know exactly how fast Andrea had driven in order to get there so quickly. Andrea exited her car and sprinted across the Þ eld, skidding to a halt next to them as the ambulance beeped its announcement that it was backing toward them.

“My God, what the hell happened?” Andrea asked, taking in the scene with wide eyes.

“Sarah decided to play with a new dog today.” Natalie was relieved to see a small smile cross Sarah’s lips.

“Holy shit.” Looking at Sarah’s face, she said, “Dog didn’t want to play nice, huh?”

“Not so much,” Sarah responded.

“I need you to take Bentley,” Natalie said, untying the leash from her belt loop. “I’m going to go to the hospital with Sarah.”

She handed over her car keys as well as Sarah’s. “And take care of our cars. I’ll call you and let you know when we’re home.

Okay?”

“No problem. Got it.” She took the leash and the keys and pulled Bentley out of the way as the EMTs approached with their gear. “Come on, boy.”

The rest was a blur to Natalie. She didn’t hear much that the EMTs asked Sarah, but when questions were directed at her, she answered as best she could, dismayed by how much she actually
didn’t
know about Sarah and then wondering why that bothered her. No, she didn’t know if Sarah had any allergies. No, she wasn’t sure of her birth date, though she did know the year. Yes, she could give them Sarah’s address and phone number while they examined her injuries. When asked her relationship to the injured party, the word “friend” had never sounded so meaningless and

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unimportant in her life, and she looked down at her shoes when she said it.

The only solid thing she was sure of was the feel of Sarah’s good hand in hers, their Þ ngers entwined tightly, clutching one another like lifelines. Even when led to the back of the ambulance for the ride to the hospital for treatment, Sarah never let go of Natalie’s hand.

For Natalie, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to simply hold on.

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sarah blinked several times, trying to focus her vision and Þ gure out where she was.

She had been fading in and out of sleep for what felt like hours, but since she’d completely lost track of time, she had no idea. A total of seventeen stitches in four different gouges in her arm and several painkillers later, she lay in her own bed with no idea of how long she’d been there. Turning her head to see the clock on the nightstand proved to be no easy feat, but she managed.

6:41.

P.M.?
she thought, uncertain.
Must be.
The blinds on the windows were closed and she couldn’t see what kind of light there was outside, but she could only assume it was evening.

Willing her brain back in time, she tried to remember exactly what had happened after the ambulance ride.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sound of retching coming from the adjoining master bathroom, the door closed but ajar. A soft groan followed, then coughing. Somebody tilted the earth on its axis as Sarah tried to sit up, and she pressed her hand to her forehead and ß opped back down to the pillow.

“Jesus, what the hell kind of pills did they give me?” she wondered aloud.

The bathroom door opened and Natalie stood there with a

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towel pressed to her lips. “You’re awake.” She smiled in spite of the slightly gray tint of her skin.

“Are you okay?” Sarah’s voice was raspy and she cleared her throat.

“I’m Þ ne.”

“You were throwing up.”

“Yeah.” Natalie grimaced sheepishly. “I guess the adrenaline Þ nally cleared out of my system and made way for the wave of raw fear.” She half-grinned. “You don’t have an extra toothbrush around, do you?” She stuck out her tongue and made a face.

Sarah smiled. “In the linen closet in the hall.”

“Thanks. How do you feel?”

“Like a train ran over my arm.”

“I’ll bet. Queasy at all?”

“A little.”

“Yeah, the doctor said the shot he gave you might make you kind of woozy. We should get something into your stomach. You shouldn’t take any more painkillers without some food.”

The thought of trying to eat something caused a fresh wave of nausea and Sarah had to swallow several times. “I don’t know…”

“We’ll start light. Just some broth. See how it goes. Okay?”

“Yes, boss.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Natalie winked and left the room, then returned with the new toothbrush in her hand. “Let me take care of this and I’ll make you some dinner.”

Try as she might, Sarah couldn’t seem to stay awake. She wanted to. She wanted to talk to Natalie, to keep her mind off the pain in her arm by listening to Natalie’s soothing voice, to ask her what she meant by “raw fear.” But her eyelids felt like they were made of lead and there was no way she could keep them open.

She drifted off, dragged unwillingly into sleep.

The next time she looked at the bedside clock, it told her it was 7:55. She blinked her still-heavy eyelids and felt like she was drunk. Her limbs were made of concrete, her thoughts were

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jumbled, and her ears seemed stuffed with cotton. She had to work hard to adjust her focus, but beyond the nightstand only a couple of feet was her comfy, overstuffed reading chair. Curled up in it, legs tucked underneath her body, opened book abandoned in her lap, was Natalie. Her chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, her arm pillowed her head. Her jeans looked old and soft, probably a favorite pair worn over and over judging from their faded color, and she swam in Sarah’s red Adidas sweatshirt, which was a size too big. Sarah vaguely remembered directing Natalie to that drawer earlier, Natalie’s own shirt being spotted with Sarah’s blood. Natalie’s shoes had been kicked onto the ß oor and Sarah could see the toes of one foot peeking out, bright pink nail polish giving them a splash of festive color, almost matching the streak in her hair that now hung over one closed eye. Sarah’s Þ ngers itched to touch it, to tuck it back behind Natalie’s ear, to stroke what she was sure must be the baby-soft skin of her cheek with her Þ ngertips. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable and sweet, Sarah suddenly saw with absolute clarity why other people, Andrea for example, wanted to protect her. Felt the need to shield her from those who would try to steal that innocence, that kindness, try to suck her spirit out of her and keep it for themselves. But what was most surprising to Sarah was that on top of the vulnerability, layered over the surface of it like a sheer piece of fabric, was an undeniable sexiness. As she slept curled up in Sarah’s chair, the Þ rst impression Natalie made wasn’t one of childlike innocence, it was one of womanly sensuality. Sarah swallowed hard, trying to focus her thoughts but having little luck.

Her vision blurred again, and in a short blast of coherency, she vowed to give the emergency room doctor a piece of her mind for whatever weird drug he’d given her. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, then opened them again, hoping to clear things up, but still felt like she’d had too many Bombay and tonics, her inhibitions having ß ed, her common sense in hiding, her rationality nowhere to be found.

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When she looked back at Natalie, her eyes were open and she was watching her.

“Hi.” Her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, dry from sleep. “Are you okay?” she asked, just above a whisper. At Sarah’s nod, she asked, “Are you hungry? You fell asleep before I could heat up your soup.”

“Come here,” Sarah requested, gesturing with her non-bandaged hand, amazed she could Þ nally lift it.

“What is it?” Natalie uncurled her legs, stood, and stretched.

She took a step toward the bed.

Sarah continued with the gesture, urging her closer.

“Can I get you something? Some water maybe?”

“Closer.”

Natalie bent over the bed. “What, sweetie?”

Sarah hooked her Þ nger in the neck of Natalie’s shirt and pulled her forward until their faces were scant inches apart.

Natalie’s hands ß ew out to catch her as she tipped, balancing on the mattress. Her soft cry of surprise was mufß ed by Sarah’s mouth covering hers.

If she was shocked, she hid it well, because instead of pulling away from Sarah, Natalie sank into her with what sounded like a relieved hum, returning the kiss with unhurried determination, slowly and gently allowing Sarah to coax her lips apart, and Sarah took her good old sweet time about it. They kissed for what seemed like hours to her and when their tongues Þ nally did meet, it was as if an electric jolt zapped through them. Natalie jumped back quickly as if she’d been electrocuted. She brought her Þ ngers to her lips, like she was wondering if they’d been scorched by Sarah’s.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes wide with surprise and blackened with dilated pupils. “I shouldn’t have…the drugs they gave you…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You’re a damn good kisser.” Sarah focused hard on not slurring her words, on not sounding like she was on her seventh cocktail, but she wasn’t sure if she’d been successful.

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Goddamn painkillers.
She rubbed at her eyes with her good hand and decided the room spun less if she just kept them closed.

“Damn good kisser,” she muttered again before she gave in to the blackness and let it envelop her once again.

v

When Natalie opened the front door of Sarah’s townhouse only a couple minutes later, Andrea’s smile was so big it seemed to take up the entire doorway. She spoke before Natalie could say a thing.

“I’ve got a date!”

“What?” Natalie stared at her, trying to catch up. “With who?” She squatted down and wrapped her arms around Bentley, whose butt was wiggling like crazy, he was so happy to see her.

“Hi, handsome,” she whispered in his ear.

“Mary Beth.” The unspoken
duh
was obvious.

“Oh. That’s great, Andrea.” She was happy for her, she was.

She knew since the camping trip the previous weekend, Andrea had been taking things slowly, chatting on the phone with Mary Beth, wanting to see her, but refusing to do the chasing for once.

That they’d actually set something up and would be meeting face-to-face again was very good news for Andrea and Natalie knew it. But she had so much on her mind at that moment and her tone was less than enthusiastic. Andrea noticed. Natalie could feel Andrea’s eyes on her as she unclipped Bentley’s leash and he sprinted off through the house, presumably to Þ nd Sarah.

“Are you okay?” Andrea asked.

“Yeah. Fine.” Andrea’s studying of her made her feel like an insect on display and she looked away. “How is Mary Beth?

What are you guys going to do on this date?”

Andrea reached out and captured Natalie’s chin in her hand, turned her face for a better view. The scrutiny made Natalie want to squirm. Running her thumb over Natalie’s bottom lip, she raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are your lips swollen?”

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“No.”

“Yes, they are.”

“They are not.” Natalie rolled them in and pressed them together between her teeth, trying to hide them and knowing that by doing so, she’d just conÞ rmed Andrea’s suspicions. More annoyed with herself than Andrea, she grumbled, “God, I hate that you can do that.”