Sara's Song (11 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Sara's Song
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“Wait a damn minute, Adam, and don't you dare hang up on me. I didn't get to tell you why I called. I want to do more for Benton Memorial Hospital. I promised them two new wings.”
“That was very generous of you, Dallas. You certainly have the money to fund it. You know I don't approve of such costly gestures unless they're planned and well thought-out. When you act in haste the way you usually do, things go awry. You will need someone to monitor the whole process. Good Luck. Call me sometime.” He had to hang up, and he had to do it now. A second later the connection was broken.
Dallas stared at the silent phone in his hand before he broke into tears. Rage, unlike anything he'd ever experienced, rivered through him. He punched his brother's number into the cell phone a second time. The phone in Charleston rang thirty times before he threw the cell phone against the wall.
In Charleston, Adam Lord's fist shot in the air. “Do you have any idea how good I feel right now? I feel like someone just took a thousand-pound load off my shoulders.” The spaniel stared at her new master with wet adoring eyes, her tail swishing happily. “We need a name for you and all these little guys. God, I don't even know if your offspring are boys or girls.” He bent over to stroke the dog's silky head. She licked at Adam's outstretched hand. “You trust me, don't you?” Sure you do, I can see it in your eyes. My own brother doesn't trust me. One time he asked me if I would donate a kidney to him if he was dying. The thought of Dallas dying was so horrible I couldn't think beyond the statement. He hung up on me. Oh, well, one of these days I'm going to figure out where I went wrong where Dallas is concerned, but right now I need to go to the store to get our Thanksgiving dinner. Then I'm going to the hardware store to get a padlock for the gate. I don't want you wandering off. I can't be sure of this, but I think you made your way in here and hid when the meter reader came this month. It doesn't matter one way or the other. You're mine now, and I accept full responsibility for you and your pups. I might stop at Super Pets and get you guys some gear. When I get back we're going to find a suitable name for you.”
Adam didn't give his brother or his phone call a second thought. It felt wonderful simply to walk out of the house and know there would be no demands on his time now or in the days to come. He could read comic books for the rest of his life if he wanted to. Or, he might open his own law office in town. If he wanted to he could buy a four-wheel drive, load up the dogs, and take a trip around the country.
Damn, for the first time in his life, his world was looking sweet. He crossed his fingers, the way he had when he was a kid hoping that things would turn out the same way for Dallas.
 
 
His rage spent, Dallas looked around at the glass littering the pool deck. He vaguely remembered smashing the root-beer bottles. When the headache hammering inside his head let up, things would be clearer. He should clean up the mess before Sara arrived. He looked at his watch. Her arrival was hours away.
The headache took on a drumbeat of its own as he stomped his way to the room Adam had set up as an office. At the most he'd only entered the room five times in the last fifteen years. He looked around. The desk was mahogany and shiny. A blotter, a leather holder containing pens and pencils sat alongside a beige telephone. It was a manly office. It even smelled manly. Burgundy leather chairs with little brass nailheads, shiny tables with glossy plants, brown-striped draperies, matching carpet that caressed his ankles. Subdued lighting. He opened one of the mahogany cabinets to see a large-screen television, a VCR, a wall safe that was empty. His
real
safe was under the floor in his closet. A copy machine, a fax machine, and recessed file cabinets completed the room. This was an Adam office, not a Dallas office.
“We'll just see about that!” Dallas was a whirlwind of motion as he slammed doors and drawers until he had the yellow pages of the phone book in hand. Impatient, he dialed the information operator, rattled off an excuse that he'd lost his reading glasses, and needed several numbers. He painstakingly wrote them down, thanking the young voice profusely. He made a call, announced himself, and gave his address. “I want it done today. Work through the night. Of course I realize it's going to cost extra. Write this down. Any idiot can paint and hang wallpaper. The room is twelve by twelve. You can take the desk, the chairs, the tables, and the carpet and drapes. Then bring a goddamn sewing machine and make the drapes while you're here. You're supposed to be the decorator. If you don't want the job, just say so. Fine, fine, that sounds fair. There's no one here to bother you or get in your way. Just give me a yes or no. Bring everything you need in one load, because I'm not opening and closing the gates every time you think you forgot something. An hour and a half is good. Yeah, yeah, autographs for all your employees and kids. Okay, pictures, too. Okay, ninety minutes. Don't be late. I hate it when people don't live up to their word.”
Dallas broke the connection to make his second call. “Just send everything for a Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, a fresh turkey. Thank you.”
His immediate chores taken care of, Dallas walked over to the wall unit and opened it. The double row of file cabinets were filled to overflowing. He yanked and tugged, until he had the contents on the floor. Seven trips later, Dallas looked at the mess on his bed. The pounding inside his head threatened his stomach when he looked at the stack of files on his king-size bed. For the first time in his life he felt total fear sweep through him.
Adam had told him to take care of his own business. He yanked at one of the folders, the contents spilling onto the floor. The highlighted sticker on the flap said PROPERTIES. Plot maps, contracts, tax bills, insurance bills, utility bills, caretaker and maintenance bills all neatly stapled and filed in separate smaller folders. He read highlighted notes; PAY, DO NOT PAY, PROBLEMS, ERRORS, TAX FILE, UPDATE, FILE QUARTERLY. USE ACCOUNT # 6667432. REFER TO LINKED ACCOUNTS # 8767651 AND # 2287903. He blinked, the headache threatening to rock his head off his shoulders. His eyes wild, Dallas looked at the other folders that were attached to the one in his hand. He flipped through them, his hands trembling. They all had the same kind of highlighted notes.
He realized he wasn't capable of reading the folders, much less handling them. The hard realization forced him to do his best to stack the folders neatly into piles. When he was finished he sat down at the foot of the bed and hugged his knees, rocking back and forth, humming quietly.
A single tear dropped to his cheek. He made no move to wipe it away. He wished he was a little boy again. When he was little, he didn't know there was something wrong with him. He wished he'd never gone to school because that's when his problems started. The kids called him a dumbbell, a retard, and stupid. Even when Adam came to his defense and beat them up they didn't stop. He tried to remember how many nights in his young life he had cried himself to sleep. He wished now that he could remember how many prayers he'd said asking God to change His mind and make him like everyone else. How many nights had he locked himself in the bathroom trying to fathom his homework? Hundreds? Thousands?
Dallas swiped at the tears on his cheeks. He choked back a sob when he recalled the day Billy Sweet, at the age of fourteen, told him he couldn't spend too much time with him anymore because he had a girlfriend. “Cissie says I shouldn't hang out with you so much because I'm starting to act stupid like you. She said you belong in one of those special schools where they work on your brain to see what went wrong.” He choked back another sob. How could a best friend say something so mean and deadly? Adam had found him that day in the garage with his head buried in an old greasy blanket howling his head off. His eyes murderous, Adam said he would take care of Billy Sweet. Two weeks later when Cissie dumped Billy for the cocaptain of the basketball team he came over to the garage to ask if they could be friends again. Billy didn't say he was sorry until Adam beat him black-and-blue.
Adam never, ever said Dallas was retarded. He'd always explained his difficulties by saying some people were quicker than other people, and it didn't mean anything. He'd go on to say some people were more coordinated than other people. He even said Einstein was only good, at one thing, and he wasn't dumb. The last thing Adam had said about that particular episode was that he had to start believing in himself and stop listening to all the assholes like Billy who didn't know what the hell they were talking about.
All these years he had been so mean and nasty to his brother when all Adam had ever done was protect him and look out for him. “I was jealous. I hated him for being so smart when I was so dumb.” Admit something else, Dallas, a niggling voice nagged. “You blamed him because you fell out of the tree. You believed that bullshit Billy fed you about being normal before you fell and cracked your head. All these years you blamed your brother, and it wasn't his fault. It was your own fault. Adam told you not to climb the tree. Adam told you to come down. ”It wasn't the fall from the damn tree. I was like that before, but no one noticed but me and my mother. Maybe that's why my mother gave me and Adam away.
Dallas slammed his fist into the bedding. The stacks of files teetered and fell off the bed, papers spewing everywhere. Dallas stared at them helplessly. How was he to figure out which papers went into which folder? He started to sob then, his whole body shaking with his unhappiness. “I wish I could run away and never come back. I wish . . . I wish . . . I was someone else.” He said the prayer again, the same prayer he'd said thousands of times when he was little, “Please God, make me like everyone else. Please.”
Dallas sat quietly, the same prayer tumbling off his lips until the gate buzzer announced a guest. Locking his door behind him, Dallas walked out to the pool deck to open the gate. Fifteen minutes later the fixings for his Thanksgiving dinner were in the refrigerator. Thirty minutes later a large white van appeared at the gate. He opened the gate a second time but failed to see the small sports car directly behind the van.
Dallas gasped when he saw her climb from her car.
“Sandi!”
“Hi, sweetie.”
Chapter Six
Dallas frowned as he stared at the long white van and the small sports car behind it. He led the decorators into the house, looking over his shoulder, the frown still on his face. “This is the room. Rip everything out, the drapes, the carpeting, the furniture. The built-in cabinets stay. Just redo the woodwork. I want this room to be electric. I want you to hang my gold and platinum records on this wall. They're all in boxes in the closet. On this wall I want my autographed pictures. I want to be shocked every time I walk into this room. Give me color, give me electricity. I want my eyeballs to stand at attention when I walk into this office. Can you give me what I want by tomorrow morning?”
“We can do it, Mr. Lord.”
“Then go to it.” Dallas smacked his hands in satisfaction. Money could buy anything.
On the walk down the hall and through the kitchen Dallas wondered what he would do with the room once it was finished. If he wasn't capable of understanding the business end of the files and folders, why did he need an office? He stopped to look back down the hall. This must be what Adam meant when he said he didn't think things through and plan ahead.
“Yoo-hoo, Dallas honey. Where are you? What are you redecorating? This kitchen could use a little work. It's been a while, Dallas, and I'm in the mood for some Dallas Lord music. Let's go into the studio and do what we do best—sing. Just like old times, okay? I'm really looking forward to the tour. How about you?” It was all said in a breathless rush.
Dallas's head throbbed. Maybe Sandi was right and some music would soothe his soul. “I have to decide about Billy's replacement before I think about the tour. There seems to be some problems with the tour schedule at the moment. What's wrong with my kitchen? I'm redoing my office.” This, too, was said in the same breathless rush.
“Have those decorators make a pit stop here. It's just blah, Dallas. I don't know, maybe some colored dishes or a hanging plant. Kitchens like this belong in orphanages or places like that. You should have a carpet on the floor by the sink. So, what's new?”
Dallas looked at the floor by the sink and made a mental note to order a carpet. “I might be getting married. The tour might get delayed. I'm decorating. What's new with you?” He wondered if he cared or if he was asking to be polite. He had to get rid of her. Quick.
“I'm having trouble meeting my bills. I haven't been with the band long enough to enjoy all the benefits your brother set up for the members. I was hoping you might ask Adam to give me an advance. Christmas is coming and everything kind of snowballed if you know what I mean. Who's the lucky girl? I wish it was me. I fell real hard for you, Dallas.”
“Her name is Sara. Adam doesn't like advances. He says it screws up his book work. How much do you need?”
Everyone in the band knew Dallas had no money sense. From time to time they would rib him good-naturedly. He could always be counted on for a loan and from all she'd heard, he never asked to be paid back. Most of the time he forgot who and how much he'd loaned. Sandi crossed her fingers when she said, “Twenty-five thousand.” When Dallas didn't blink, she said, “On second thought, I want to get something really nice for my parents for Christmas. Make that fifty-thousand. Can you spare that, sweetie? Will Adam chew you out if you write me a check?”
Dallas stared at his backup singer. He had no idea what her salary was. Adam handled the payroll. But, she'd said the magic words as far as his brother was concerned. “My checkbook is in the studio. Are you sure it's enough? What are you going to get your parents?”
“I was thinking about a cruise. You know, one of those land-to-water things. For say three months. They live part of the year in Wisconsin, and you know how cold it is there in January and February. You can't count on March either.”
With absolutely no idea of what a cruise cost, Dallas pretended to think. “I think I should give you an even hundred thousand. I'll tell Adam the next time I talk to him. A hundred should cover everything. It will give your parents a very nice memory.”
“Oh, Dallas, this is so wonderful of you. I'm going to put your name on the card, too. My parents are going to be thrilled out of their minds.”
“That's nice, Sandi. Do you want to hear the song I'm writing for Sara?”
“Oh, yes. Did you finish it, or are you still working on it?”
“I'm still working on it. It's in my head. I think it's the best thing I've done so far. On second thought I think I'll wait until I finish it. I might jinx myself.”
“When do you think you'll finish it?”
Dallas shrugged. “Next week. I'm trying to do one for Billy, too, but it isn't going well. I need more time on it. Each time I start to work on it I get choked up.”
“What kind of wedding are you planning, Dallas? You said we were going to get married. You even asked me to set the date and now you're marrying someone else.”
“A simple one. Secret. Sara's a doctor. She saves lives. You said you didn't want to marry me.” Why the hell was he even bothering to talk to this girl? Because Adam had always told him not to hurt people's feelings and to be polite.
Sandi's voice was sly when she said, “She must not be a very good doctor. If she was really good, she would have saved Billy's life. Is she better than me, Dallas, because she's a doctor? You must have been really serious when you asked me to marry you too. You broke my heart. You said ugly things to me. I would never hurt your feelings that way, Dallas. Never, ever.” Her tone was so vehement, Dallas reared backward.
Dallas bit down on his lower lip as he scribbled a check.
“Is Sara prettier than I am, Dallas?” The check disappeared like magic.
“Sara's plain and normal. She doesn't wear all that makeup you wear. You really have to be smart to be a doctor.”
“If she's so smart, then why did Billy die? Just answer me that, Dallas Lord.”
“Because it was his time to die. Sara said the best doctors in the world couldn't have saved him.”
Sandi snorted. “I'd say that, too, if my patient up and died on me. Sometimes you are not in touch with the real world, Dallas.”
Dallas stared at the young woman across from him. She was prettier than Sara in a glamorous way, and she was in good physical shape because she worked out daily. Sara was a little thick in the middle and admitted to being seven pounds overweight. Sandi he knew weighed in at 110. Her shellacked good looks were an asset to the band, and he knew it. She was good in bed, too.
Sandi sat down on the floor. “You know what, Dallas, I'm sorry I didn't agree to marry you when you asked me. You spooked me when you said you wanted a whole houseful of kids. I'm only twenty-four. I don't want to have children until I'm in my thirties. I'll be a better mother then because I'll have done all the things I want to do by then. I do things the way my mother did them. That's how you learn.” Sandi wondered if God would strike her dead at some point for all her lies. “How old is Dr. Sara? I bet she's almost
forty
. That's too old to have children. My mother said women shouldn't have children after thirty-five. Things go wrong. Sometimes kids are born deformed or
retarded
. I don't know that for a pure fact, Dallas. I'm only going by what my mother said. Mothers don't ever lie. That's a given.”
Dallas's face turned an ugly red. “Then we'll adopt kids. Sara knows all about stuff like that.”
Sandi stretched her long body out on the floor, her palms supporting her as she proceeded to do body lifts. Her voice was hushed when she said, “It won't be the same thing, Dallas. Adopted children won't be your flesh and blood. They won't have any features of you and your wife. Or your brother's features. The Lord name won't continue. Unless your brother fathers a child. This is really sad, Dallas. You should think about this a little more before you make such a big decision.
Forty
is really old. Women start to go through the change of life around that time. My mother told me that, too. They get those ugly red, hot flashes, and they
sweat
. Big-time. They have to take
drugs
. I know how you feel about drugs, Dallas. She could make a
mistake
in the operating room. Then the family files a lawsuit and they come after you. When Adam hired me he gave me this lecture. You know the one about clean living and any hint of scandal puts us on the street. That little speech is burned into my brain. Does Dr. Sara have a sense of humor, Dallas?”
“Of course she does. She makes me laugh and I make her laugh.”
“That's really nice. Laughter is important.” Sandi's voice turned sly again when she said, “Does she love your music? Does she get off on it? Does she
really
open up people and touch their organs? All that blood. Marrying someone like that, to me, would be like marrying a
mortician
. Let's make some popcorn and watch
Dirty Dancing
. Or we could go into your room and . . . you know. I've really missed you, Dallas. I haven't been with anyone since we . . . since you said you didn't want to see me anymore.”
Dallas looked down to find his hand in Sandi's tight grasp. He wasn't engaged to Sara. Then he thought about the files and folders on top of his bed. That thought led to other thoughts and what Adam would think about this situation. He wouldn't approve. His brother had morals and ethics. “I'd rather go for a walk.”
On her feet, Sandi reached for Dallas's hand. He allowed it to be taken and didn't know why.
“Do you miss Billy, Sandi?”
“Sure. I didn't know him all that well. He was always polite and all that. The guys all have families and didn't want to mess with me and the other girls. We didn't try to mess with them either. We respected their families. That's one of the things we liked about being with you and the Canyon River Band. Your brother did a real bang-up job putting everything together and making sure it stayed that way. They call him the Great White in the industry. It doesn't get any better than that. I wish I had a brother like yours. Is Billy's family okay? I sent flowers, and one of the girls said Billy was a Catholic, so I sent some mass cards. It was okay to do that, wasn't it?” She squeezed his hand tighter. Dallas squeezed back. “Boy, this is really like old times. Didn't you miss me even a little bit?”
Dallas thought about the question. “Not really. I miss Billy. I should go to the cemetery, but all those reporters will be there. Do you go?”
“Every day,” Sandi lied. “I take flowers. I knew you wouldn't be able to go, so I did it for you. I don't take elaborate bunches of flowers because I can't afford it. I just pick up some daisies or some colorful blossoms at the supermarket. Billy knows my heart's in the right place and that I'm just your stand-in. You don't mind, do you, Dallas?”
“Jeez, why would I mind?” He swung her hand as they walked along.
“Tell me about the song you're writing for the doctor. Are you sure she deserves a song by Dallas Lord?”
“Sure I'm sure. It's about friendship and loyalty. How people care for one another. I'm calling it ‘Sara's Song.' ”
“Hum a few bars, Dallas and I'll give you my honest opinion.” He obliged. He grinned when Sandi clapped her hands. “I like it, Dallas. Try it now using my name and see how it sounds.” Dallas obliged. Sandi's voice was playful when she said. “I think I like it with my name better. Do it again and get the beat. See what I mean. Oh, well, it's your song so you can do whatever you want. I do think, though, you should play it for the guys and get their opinion. What are you doing for Thanksgiving? Would you like to come to dinner at my parents' house? They come here in the winter.”
“I can't. Sara's coming up and we're going to make dinner.”
“That's nice. I just worry about you being alone. Do you know what I'm going to do, Dallas. I just got this great idea. I'm going to call Nancy and invite her to my mother's. I know she doesn't have any family, and this is going to be rough for her. It's a really good idea, don't you think, Dallas?”
“It's a great idea.”
“Sara isn't part of our family the way Nancy is. You need to give some thought to what it will mean if the guys don't accept her. After all, Billy died in her care.” Sandi looked at her watch. “It's getting late. I think I'm going to leave now, Dallas. If Nancy is agreeable to coming here, should I charter a plane or what? It's your decision, Dallas. Do you have to call Adam for something like this? I can make all the arrangements, you just have to pay for it. If I could afford it, you know I'd do it.”
“I don't need Adam's okay to do anything. Go ahead and call Nancy and take care of the arrangements if she wants to come. Then call me back and let me know the method of payment.”
“I can't call you back, Dallas. Don't you remember, you got angry with me and got a new number? All I wanted to do that day was try and comfort you in your grief. I was grieving, too, Dallas. I loved Billy, too. It's okay, I forgive you. It's easy for me to forgive you because I still love you.”

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