Mr. Wrong (15 page)

“You have a missionary?”
Rob chimed in, scooting closer and raising his eyebrows. “Why was I not informed?”

Sara
felt her cheeks redden. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Rob
bumped Linda’s shoulder lightly. “Hey, this is just like that movie—the one about the missionary coming off of his mission and everything went awful for him—right? Please tell me you dumped him.”

Linda made a face.
“No—you didn’t dump him, did you?”

Pulling her bag onto her shoulder she laughed at their interest.
“I have to go.” She turned and bumped into Beau—again. “Hey.”

A smile played on his lips.
“Oh, don’t let me interrupt, Ms. Fairbanks. Go ahead and answer the question.”

Sara
caught that look in his eye. The one that told her his curiosity was more than casual.

“Uh.”
She glanced back—Rob and Linda were looking between her and Beau expectantly.

Leaning easily against a chair, Beau folded his arms casually.
“Well.”

“No,” she said
, her gaze steady on Beau. “I didn’t dump him.”

Rob laughed, standing up and patting her on the shoulder.
“Dang. Well, that’s all right.” He brushed between her and Beau and started down the stairs. “It seems like there’s already enough drama at the institute anyway.” He gave Linda a pointed look and turned for the door.

Sara looked at Linda, hoping to deflect any further conversation with Beau.
“What was that about?”

Linda frowned and hurried to follow him.
“He’s getting baptized.”

Shock registered in her mind.
“What?” How had she missed this?

Linda paused at the entrance to class.
“Yeah, and now he wants to go on a mission.” She glared at Sara and walked out.

Sara
was speechless. Her heart was elated for Rob but confused at Linda’s reprisal.

Sara
hesitated when she met Beau’s eyes. “Wow, who would have thought?” She couldn’t keep herself from smiling.

Beau smiled too, but it didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“Yeah—who would have thought?”

They both stood there for what seemed like forever.
Sara thought about kissing him that night in the grove, and her heart started to flutter.

It looked like he was going to reach out to her, pull her into him, then he turned for the stairs.
“Well.”

Sara
didn’t want him to go, but she was all tangled up inside like a knot that no matter of pulling would let loose. “I didn’t say yes.” Her voice was quiet.

He
hung back but didn’t look at her.

She wanted to tell him about it, explain the details and get his input.
But she couldn’t—not about this. “I don’t know what to say to you.”

Picking up his briefcase he went for the exit, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it.”

**

It was 10:30
p.m. and Sara sat in the small office set aside for part-time staff of the paper. She’d been pouring over what to write as an answer for her Beatrice article. It just didn’t feel right the way it was. Usually it was easy for her to answer the ‘love questions.’

Carey walked by and turned, seeing her there.
“H-hey.” He dropped his gaze and leaned into the door. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Sara
sighed; she wanted to still be upset with Carey, but she didn’t feel like she had it in her at the moment . . . and she could use a friend. “Thanks.”

Carey met her eyes and stepped into the office, pulling the chair to him.
“I’m sorry about everything.”

S
ighing heavily, she leaned back. Carey had been one of her closest friends last year. Well, she thought he’d been her friend. And she felt so confused. “It’s okay. I’m sorry if—if I did anything that made you think—.” Beau’s face popped into her mind. “I’m sorry if I led you on.” It was the fear that had been at the back of her mind the past couple of weeks.

Scrubbing his hand over his face he smiled.
“It was my fault.” He delayed, looking at her closely. “I wasn’t really being honest with myself; I can see that now.”

Sara
felt her face getting red.

H
e stood and it seemed like he was indecisive whether he wanted to stay or not. “How’s the article?”

Sara
turned her computer so he could see. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it?”

Leaning down, his shoulder brushed hers
, and he stared at her for a second. Then he pulled the chair over and sat down, scanning through it. “Well,” he said fixing an error. “I think your answer stinks.”

Surprised,
Sara laughed. “Well, don’t hold back, Carey.” It felt good to laugh. It felt good to be talking with Carey. “What do you mean?”

Carey cleared his throat
, and Sara thought that his cheeks reddened a little. “Your reader is asking you if she should give this other guy a shot and you tell her that she shouldn’t hurt her boyfriend.”

Sara
folded her arms, realizing that Carey was talking about them. “Carey—don’t.” She looked away.

“
Sara . . .” He leaned forward, touching her hand lightly. “I’m not talking about that.” His lips tensed, and he pulled his hand away. Shrugging he stood. “Really, I’m not talking about us—but I am talking about you.” He raised his eyebrows and pointed to her.

Sara
was confused. “What?”

Carey shook his head slowly.
“You don’t see it, do you?” He walked to the door and then turned back. “Sara—if he was the one, I don’t think you’d have to defend your decision so much.” The corner of his mouth turned into a sad smile. “I know I’m not the guy—I get that. But I don’t think it’s Jonathon, either.” He tapped the door with his pen. “I’m just sayin. Goodnight, Sara.”

Chapter 21

The night lay ahead of her. Genova was out with Kevin, and Jonathon was coming next weekend—the weekend before Thanksgiving. They’d been texting and talking and emailing, but she hadn’t been able to see him in person. He was working for his dad to earn money for school—even though he was still uncertain where he was going to attend school. It was driving her slightly crazy, not being able to plan.

Opening the freezer she assessed the ice cream situation.
Not good. Cookies and cream was her favorite, but Sara knew it’d been in there for a few weeks.

She decided to skip the ice cream and opened her computer, going to her email to see if she’d heard back fr
om any of the part time jobs at the University. Answering phones would be preferable, especially if she could study when they weren’t busy.

There was an email from Beau.
It was an outline for their business plans. Beau. They hadn’t spoken since that day in class when he’d asked, point blank, what she’d said to Jonathon. He would nod casually to her at the institute but never engaged her in conversation.

Clicking the computer shut, she went to the couch, pulling out her photo album.
She’d brought it with her after the funeral. It had been by her father’s bed and dropping it into her suitcase had felt right. It was a part of her dad that was tangible—the pictures of them together.

Dwelling on her dad’s death hadn’t been an option.
It had all been a whirlwind with school and Jonathon coming back. She was proud of the fact that she was caught up in all of her classes. Trying to stay focused in school was essential to keeping her grades up for her scholarship. The plastic that held the pictures to the page cracked a little as she opened it.

There was a knock at the door.
Genova was at Kevin’s house, but it seemed like someone from the institute was always banging on their door. She thrust it open, holding the album in her hand.

Beau stood there, wearing his leather jacket, holding a helmet under his arm.

“Hi.” Sara thought of her ponytail and sweats, not to mention her photo album.

Beau smiled.
“Hi.”

Sara
didn’t know what to do. Her mouth felt dry, and her skin felt hot. “Do you want to come in?” She stepped backwards, almost dropping the album. Beau caught it, shut it and handed it back to her. Inhaling, she noticed he smelled of leather and soft tropical something—the way he always smelled. Mentally she kicked herself. Why was she smelling him?

Beau glanced at the photo album.
“Am I interrupting?” He put his hand back on the door knob.

“No.”
Sara found that she didn’t want him to leave. It seemed like he probably understood better than anybody her feelings about her dad. “Want to sit?” She gestured to the couch.

Beau settled into the couch
, and Sara picked up the album and sat beside him. She opened it and pointed to a picture. “This was my tenth birthday. That’s dad standing behind me. And, of course, Mark and James sword fighting.” Sara laughed at thoughts of how crazy her brothers were.

Beau smiled and took his jacket off.
“You guys look really happy, Sara.”

She reflected on that and shrugged.
“We were. Dad had to be both parents, and he did a good job of it. Granted, the farm was a nice place to raise a family. We could find him somewhere on the property anytime we needed him.” She turned the picture and saw her dad and James branding a calf. James looked like he was about fifteen.

“I always hated branding season.
I couldn’t get over how much it probably hurt them.” Sara turned the page over. “Oh, look at this. Isn’t this so Mark?” Mark was dressed like a hippie for Halloween.

Beau smiled and nodded.

“I think deep inside he’ll always be a free spirit.
My dad always said a mission would change him, but I think it just gave him the tools to actually be a successful hippy. He won’t starve.” She laughed again and looked at Beau.

He laughed too.
“Did you really want to hitchhike across America?”

“Yes,” she said, studying Mark
’s picture. She looked back to Beau. “Ya know I never used to worry about him, because dad did all the worrying. Maybe I better start.” She sighed.

“
Naw, Mark will work it all out. He seems like a good guy.”

Sara
nodded and realized that Beau was really paying attention to the photos. She noticed that he’d gotten a haircut because his hair looked shorter, and he was wearing it like the sculpted, messy style that she’d gotten used to on him. “I never asked you why you came over.”

He shrugged and
kept looking at the photos. He turned the page. “Is this your senior prom?”

She covered the picture with her hand.
“That dress was hideous. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Beau swiped her hand away.
“I think you look good.” He studied the picture.

Her phone ran
g. She looked at the number and saw that it was Jonathon. She pushed ignore and put the phone down, not wanting to talk to him in front of Beau.

Beau raised his eyebrows.

Sara blushed.

Beau p
icked up the Beatrice article lying on the coffee table she’d been working on. Sara tried to grab it out of his hand, but he turned the other way and laughed. “You’re Beatrice?”

Embarrassed,
Sara shrugged.

He started reading.
“Dear Beatrice. I have a boyfriend, but I’m attracted to someone else. What do I do? Signed, Lonely Heart.”

She tried to grab it again, still unsure of her response.
He snapped it away; his eyes filled with intrigue.

“Dear Lonely Heart.
No worries. Love is meant to be easy. If it feels too hard, it’s not the right one. Signed, Beatrice Fairfax.”

Beau cocked his head to the side and scrunched his nose up, putting the article back down.

“Well,” Sara said, not liking that she felt nervous.

“How’d it go with Jonathon
?”

“What do you think of the article?”

His eyes were intense for a few seconds then he turned away from her, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t agree with your advice.” He didn’t back away from her. “Are you getting married?”

Sara
could tell that he was trying to act nonchalant.

She leaned back into the couch and folded her arms.
“What didn’t you agree with?”

He turned toward her and reached for her arms.

“What are you doing?”

He took her left hand and
sighed, dropping it back and standing up.

“At least you don’t have a ring yet.”

She didn’t want to answer the question. She really didn’t know how to answer. She almost felt a little sick because her feelings seemed all jumbled up inside since kissing him that day in the grove. “What did you think of my response to Lonely Heart?”