Sara's Song (5 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Sara's Song
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Carly grinned as she waved her index finger in Sara's face. “Take notes!”
Sara slid between the sheets as she rolled over on her side. She was asleep within minutes, dreaming not of Dallas Lord but Eric Evans.
“You tricked me, Eric. You stole my key to the drug cabinet. I cannot, I will not cover for you. You need help, Eric.”
“What are you talking about. All I wanted was my guitar. You're the one who put it in the drug cabinet. Adam said he could get me a real good price for it. He doesn't like you, Sara. That's why you're so upset. Admit it. He has the combination to the gate, too. He isn't going to like it when he sees you. It's your turn now, Sara. You'll see how it feels when your world is ripped out from under you.”
“You were abusing drugs, Eric. You were stealing from the drug cabinet using my key on my floor. That's why you don't have a life anymore. Did you ever love me, or was that all a lie, too?”
“Of course it was ‘lie. It was all a lie. Sneaking around was the only thing that was exciting. How do you think you're going to feel when Adam finds out you're trying to steal Dallas out from under him? Dallas Lord and the Canyon River Band is Adam's livelihood. He's going to blame you, blame you, blame youuuuu.”
Sara rolled over, and then sat up. She brushed at her hair as she stared at the bedside clock—12:10. She leaned back into her nest of pillows. She rarely dreamed of Eric Evans these days. Eric belonged to the past. Sara tried to burrow into the bed. Maybe she should just return the Jeep, take back her car, and go on with her life. Maybe the dream was an omen of some kind.
Make up your mind, Sara. Being blind to something was what caused the problems with Eric. Open your eyes and look at this situation. Right now Dallas Lord is just someone you met who is a nice person. If you let it go further, you will eventually have to deal with the brother. Is that what you want? Can you handle that?
Sara swung her legs over the side of the bed, Nellie Pulaski's words ringing in her ears. “For God's sake, it's just a dinner. It's not even a real date.” She continued talking to herself as she stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, which was starting to fog up from the steamy shower. The clothes she'd slept in came off in a rush. She hadn't slept in her clothes since her intern days. Another omen?
 
 
“Oh, Sara, you look . . . wonderful. Actually, you look downright gorgeous.”
“Am I overdone? Is it too much? Is the dress too . . . you know, flashy?”
“Not at all. You look perfect. Gold is definitely your color. It brings out the gold flecks in your eyes.” Carly's eyes were clinical as well as critical when she scrutinized Sara's new haircut, manicure, and sniffed her new perfume. She nodded approvingly. “Don't mess yourself up when you get in that crummy Jeep. Oh, jeez, the wind's going to do a number on your hair. Wear a scarf till you get there.”
“Any other instructions?”
“Do you have a condom in your purse? You're a doctor, Sara. These days women have to take responsibility for themselves. You can't depend on the guy. You went to the same lecture I did.”
“Carly, I am not going to bed with Dallas Lord. I'm going to dinner. I would never go to bed with someone I just met. The answer is no, I do not have a condom in my purse.”
Carly's voice was breezy, devilish. “That's okay. I put one in for you. It's in that little zipper compartment. Just in case. You always have to be prepared, Sara.”
“This is wrong. I'm the big sister. You are the little sister. I should be telling you things like this, not the other way around.”
“Only by thirteen months. I bloomed early, Sara.”
Sara looked around for her keys.
“You left the key in the Jeep. Have a good time. I won't wait up. I might even stay at Hank's place tonight. I'll see you tomorrow. Sara, loosen up and enjoy the man's company. Be open to whatever is in store for you. Sometimes you are just so tight-assed I want to kick you.”
“You're sure I look okay?”
“You're so ugly I can't stand it. Go already!”
“All right. I'm gone.”
“Remember now, take notes.”
The smile stayed on Sara's lips all the way to Dallas Lord's palatial estate.
Chapter Three
Dallas looked around the cluttered kitchen. How was it possible to use every pot, every pan, every utensil, plus every dish, to make spaghetti? He'd done just that, and he would have used more had more been in the cabinets. All in his desire to impress Dr. Sara Killian. Maybe Adam was right and he really was some kind of misfit. “Shit!”
His eyes wild, Dallas reached for the cell phone on the counter when it buzzed to life. Thinking it was Sara Killian, he forced cheerfulness into his voice that he was far from feeling.
“Sweetie, it's Sandi. I'm out by the gates, and they aren't working. Will you buzz me in?”
“I changed the code, Sandi. Look, we went through this. You said you understood. It was what it was. I've moved on. You need to do the same thing.” He eyed the clock on the wall and then the spaghetti splatters on his white tee shirt. He needed to change and pick some flowers from the greenhouse for the table.
Sandi Sims's voice was a coy whine. “Oh, Dallas, honey, that's just your grief talking. We were so good together. We made music together. Surely you haven't forgotten all those wonderful nights.”
Dallas wondered what wonderful nights she was referring to. Sandi had come to an audition when one of his backup singers made the choice to go back to school to finish her degree. It was short notice, and she'd been the best of the lot, appearancewise. Voicewise she left something to be desired, but the high-tech equipment made it work. He regretted the six-week relationship. He knew it was a mistake. Billy had said it was a mistake. Even old Adam had voiced an opinion saying business and pleasure didn't work. If it hadn't been for Adam's comments, he probably wouldn't have let it get off the ground. Billy said Sandi was like chewing gum. Everywhere he stepped, there she was. Feathering her nest was the way Billy put it. He offered up his favorite phrase a second time “Oh, shit!”
“Dallas, honey, open the gates. I have an exquisite bottle of wine and some wonderful cheese and crackers. We can sit out under the stars and talk. The guys are all worried about you. I'm worried too, honey. You shouldn't be alone at a time like this. That's what friends are for. Open the gates, Dallas.”
“Right now the best thing you can do for me is to leave me alone. I'd like to do my grieving in private. Don't make me say things I'll regret. It's over, Sandi. I'll have Adam get in touch with you when I decide what I'm going to do. Your paychecks will be in the mail.”
“Why are you being so ugly to me, Dallas? If you don't want me to come in, at least come down to the gate and talk to me. Please, Dallas.”
Dallas eyed the clock. Sara would be arriving any minute. “Shit, shit, shit!” The spaghetti bubbled, splattering the huge white stove. He still had the salad to cut up. “I have to go now, Sandi. Please don't call again.” He broke the connection. Now he was going to have to get a new number.
He was whirlwind as he chopped and pared the vegetables. He turned down the stove and took the stairs three at a time. He was in and out of the shower in three minutes, dressed in five. He used up two more minutes running his electric razor over his face and neck. Two seconds to splash on cologne and another two seconds running the brush through his tight springy curls. Done!
Back in his kitchen, Dallas looked at his polka-dotted room. He didn't dare go near the stove. What he needed was a goddamn raincoat. Spaghetti, his favorite food, was supposed to be easy to make according to the cookbook on the counter. You just put everything in a pot and watched it cook. Instead of the sauce cooking down, the mess had seemed to
expand
at an alarming rate of speed. He'd switched pots four times so far. He didn't have a clean pot for the pasta. That meant he had to wash one and risk splattering his clean shirt. The raincoat idea was looking better and better. The urge to give it a try was so strong, Dallas burst into laughter as he headed for the mudroom and one of the yellow slickers hanging on the peg near the door. He put it on, buckled it, sniffing appreciatively at the garlic- and basil-scented kitchen.
The only pot for the pasta was the one the sauce was cooking in. Dump it out and let it finish cooking in the microwave. Oh, yeah. He carried the bubbling mess to the sink and poured. He flinched when the sauce splattered on the pristine organdy curtain above the sink. The white cabinets became one long smear of red. The sauce dripped down the yellow slicker onto the shoelaces of his new Nikes. “Oh, shit!”
The electronic pad next to the door came to life. “The main gate is now opening. A vehicle is driving through. There are ten seconds left and counting. The main gate is now closing. No other vehicles have entered.” Dalla pressed the End button to cut off the transmission. The cell phone rang again. Answer it or not? It might be Nancy, Billy's wife. He clicked the On talk switch to hear Sandi's angry voice. “I thought you said you wanted to be alone, Dallas. Who was that? It was your Jeep. I recognized the license plate. Why did you lie to me?”
“Because I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I told you, Sandi, it's over. Please don't call me. Furthermore, it's none of your business who comes to my house. Let's leave it at that, or you'll be looking for another job. I hate pushy people, especially pushy women. As I said earlier, it's what it is. I never made you any promises. In fact I was very careful not to lead you on. There's no point in prolonging this conversation. Adam will be in touch when it's time. Just so you know, there's every possibility I might break up the band and retire. Now, please, leave me alone.” For the second time Dallas broke the connection. He looked around, his eyes full of panic. Where to stash the phone? The moment he saw the headlights arc on the kitchen window he opened the freezer to stuff the cell phone down among the ice cubes. He thought he heard it ring. Maybe it was the ice cubes settling. He wondered if it would plug up the ice chute. Not that he cared. A stuffed ice chute was preferable to listening to Sandi Sims.
Fright, unlike anything he'd ever experienced onstage, washed through him when he heard the sound of Sara's heels on the concrete apron. God, she was coming to the kitchen door. He felt his feet take root on the tile floor. He was muttering his favorite expression when the screen door opened.
“I thought you'd come to the side door or the front door,” he managed to croak.
Sara's eyes took in the raincoat, the red-and-white stove, the polka-dotted organdy curtains. Tongue in cheek, Sara said, “I can go back out and walk around to your front door. I think I understand everything but the raincoat.”
“It's a long story. I really do know how to cook. Sort of. For some reason this . . . got away from me. I think what happened was I used this really big can of tomato paste and I had to keep adding water because the sauce was like glue. I kept switching pots till I ran out of them. I think I ruined the microwave a few minutes ago. The reason I know this is because the sauce is oozing out under the door. I was going to have dinner catered, but decided to do it myself because I hate it when people
hover
. I love spaghetti.”
He could cook. And sing. And he was going out of his way for her. Sara felt a definite head rush.
“I wanted to impress you,” he said.
“Oh. Why?”
He wanted to impress me. Oh God
.
“I don't know. I like you. You aren't like all those other women I meet. You're normal. You're the kind of person my brother associates with. I guess I wanted you to like me.”
“I do like you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't like you, Dallas. Is it safe for me to come in, or should I wait outside?”
Dallas loved the smile in her voice. “I'm going to salvage this dinner if it kills me. My housekeeper has some stuff in the closet in the mudroom. It's not glamorous or anything. That dress you're wearing is much too pretty to ruin. You know how sauce splatters. I could get you a matching slicker, complete with hat if you want.”
His and hers. His suggestion. Hmmm. “Okay.”
“Okay? Are you kidding?”
“Nope. I'm game. I have to tell you, though, I don't clean up. You're going to need those Disaster Master people. Your housekeeper might quit if she sees this mess. It smells heavenly, though. Spaghetti is one of my favorite foods. I love basil and garlic.”
Dallas preened, his chest puffing out. “Get your raincoat while I try to salvage this mess. Dinner will be ready as soon as I cook the spaghetti. Be careful you don't slip on the floor.”
Sara laughed. “Where are the hip boots?”
“In the garage with my fishing gear. Do you like to fish Sara?”
“My dad used to take Carly and me when we were little. I haven't gone in years. We used to go in a canoe. My mother cheered us from the dock.”
“Would you like to go fishing with me?”
Sara didn't hesitate. “Yes I would.”
“Do you rollerblade?”
“I never tried it. Carly loves it and says it's wonderful exercise. I like to hike.”
“You're kidding! I love to hike. Someday I want to do that survival thing. You know, climb the real mountains with ropes and pulleys and all that stuff. You ride the rapids, live in tents, eat off the land. I just never have the time. I also don't like doing things alone. I'm the only unmarried guy in the band. When is your next vacation?”
“The entire month of December. My contract is up at the hospital, and it will take that long to negotiate a new one. I'm not sure I want to stay at Benton Memorial. I've been thinking about going into private practice.”
“What's stopping you?”
Sara buckled the yellow slicker. “Money. I'm still paying off student loans, and I don't know if I want to go further into debt. It's very expensive to become a doctor, even worse if you have a specialty. Malpractice insurance is prohibitive. The water's bubbling. Can I set the table?”
“Sure. We're eating in my fancy dining room unless you want to eat out here in this mess.”
“I don't mind. I'm a kitchen person. Carly and I have this wonderful breakfast nook with a wraparound window. It overlooks a small garden. We have bird feeders and a few squirrels. I love to sit there on Sunday mornings with my coffee and the paper. Just tell me where the dishes are.”
Dallas pointed to the cabinet to Sara's left. He watched as she set the table, folding the napkins, placing them just so, arranging the silverware. “Root beer, right?” He nodded. “Glasses or do we swig from the bottle?”
“I'm for whatever saves on dishwashing.”
Sara's voice was full of awe. “Me too. Carly and I use those plastic throwaway dishes. The shiny ones. Everything's throwaway. Even though we have a dishwasher, you have to rinse off everything, load it up, put in the soap, clean up. That takes time.
“Laundry takes time, housecleaning takes time. Mowing the lawn takes even more time. Then you have to go to the dry cleaners, the supermarket, the gas station, the auto body shop, the drugstore. Some days I can't get everything done. You're the lucky one, you have people do all that stuff for you.”
“I never thought about it like that. Sometimes I'd like to do those things. Adam keeps me on a tight schedule and an even tighter leash. I really understand the time thing. Well, time is standing still right now for both of us. I love this mess. Just look at it. If I tried, I couldn't have done this. And all because I wanted to impress you. Tell me I impressed you.”
Sara's face was solemn when she said, “You did. You are. I will always remember eating spaghetti with Dallas Lord wearing a yellow slicker. I hope you have lots of garlic butter.” Maybe her purchases at Sassy's weren't a mistake after all. She blinked when she remembered the price. Did men really pay attention to women's underwear, or was that a myth?
“I made my own garlic butter. Sit down, Doctor, and I will serve you the best spaghetti you ever ate.”
“What's that noise?”
“What noise?”
“The noise coming from the freezer.”
“It's probably the cell phone. I would have thought the wires were frozen by now.”
“I see.”
Dallas propped his elbows on the table. “No, you don't, but that's okay. I had a short-term . . . thing with one of the singers in the band. Didn't I tell you about that yesterday? It wasn't going to go anywhere. I knew it. I thought she did, too.”
Dallas's announcement demanded she make some kind of comeback. Sara rolled her spaghetti on the fork, using the tablespoon to wrap it smoothly. Suddenly she felt uneasy, afraid for some reason.
“How about you, Sara? Is there anyone in your life?”
“No. I'm not sure I want anyone. When things don't work out it hurts too much. I had that twice, actually three times. I don't think I could handle it again.”
“I never experienced that kind of feeling. What went wrong? If it's none of my business, tell me.”
“It wasn't meant to be. I guess I loved too much, and they didn't love enough. Now when I look back I don't think it was love at all. They were party people. My idea of a party is four people for a barbecue in the backyard. I'm a home-and-hearth kind of person. I don't know how you do it. Entertainers like you are so ... visible, so front and center. You have to be on all the time.”

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