The First Love Cookie Club (26 page)

It wasn’t fair.

She didn’t want to cry. She was tired of crying. Tired of wishing and hoping and praying for thingsthat could never be. She should just be happy for what she had, a writing career that was back on track, an agent who was her best friend, enough money to make life very comfortable, and her health. Those were worthy things many people did not have. It was greedy to expect more.

After much tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep, and on the night before Christmas, Sarah dreamed the dream again. The one she hadn’t dreamed since her fifteenth Christmas. The foolish, sentimental dream that had caused her so much trouble.

The kismet cookie dream where she was marrying Travis.

Sarah jerked awake at the point in the dream where he kissed her. She lay breathing hard, her body covered in perspiration. She threw back the covers, swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and dropped her head in her hands. Why oh why had she had that stupid dream? She’d been in Twilight for almost three weeks and she hadn’t dreamed of Travis once. Until tonight. Until Christmas Eve.

She glanced at the bedside clock. One
a.m.
Ugh. She reached for her pillow, intending on plumping it up, but when she pulled it to her chest, a trail of cookie crumbs fell over her sleep shirt.

Kismet cookies. Underneath her pillow, and she hadn’t put them there.

But who could have done so? At once she knew the answer.

Jazzy.

When the little girl made the excuse of going to the bathroom she must have slipped up to Sarah’s room and tucked the cookies under her pillow.

Jazzy had wanted her to dream of her one true love. Why? Because she hoped it was her daddy? Or because she wanted to find a lover for Sarah so her daddy and mommy could get back together?

In that moment, Sarah knew how to end her book. She threw back the covers, grabbed her computer, and began to write. Tears rolled down her cheeks; fat, salty tears that hit the laptop with a steady
plop, plop, plop.
How come the only place she could emote was on the page? Why couldn’t she express herself in person, in speech, with the heartfelt words that bubbled from her fingertips, through the keyboard, and onto the page?

This then was her fate, spending Christmas alone, interpreting everything from afar, never belonging, never fitting in. Before Travis, she’d readily accepted her fate. Never really fought it or thought too much about it. She’d been happy enough. Or so she believed.

But now she knew better. After knowing Jazzy and Travis and coming back to Twilight, she realized how much she’d been missing, how much she’d lost. How much she’d been holding herself back.

By keeping herself isolated from others, she’d been trying to create clarity in her life. An inner knowing. She’d thought distance would give her a sense of peace born of detachment. But her mistake had been in identifying with her observation of her experiences, rather than the experiences themselves.

You couldn’t dissect love and still feel it. Love was deep and vast and you couldn’t pull it apart, examine it, and still know it. You could only know it through experiencing it.

It was a moment of pure insight.

She couldn’t control who she loved. Love was messy and real and raw. The very things she’d always avoided. Except for the one Christmas Day nine years ago when the fifteen-year-old Sarah Collier had staked her claim on the man who was her destiny.

Just down the road, in the cottage by the lake, Travis dreamed as fitfully as Sarah.

Crystal was ensconced in the guest room; al-though she’d tried to use Christmas Eve as an excuse to slip into his bed, he’d firmly told her no. For his daughter’s sake, he was glad Crystal had returned, but he had no warm feelings left for her. She’d killed whatever attraction there had ever been between them when she’d abandoned their daughter. But she was trying to make an effort to reconnect with Jazzy, so he’d allowed her to stay in the house as long as she obeyed his ground rules and kept her hands to herself.

After Crystal and Jazzy had gone to bed, he’d played Santa, stashing presents under the tree, filling stockings, taking two big bites out of the kismet cookies Jazzy had baked with Sarah and set out on a plate for Santa when she’d gotten home. When he thought of how kind it had been of Sarah to keep her date with his daughter, even after all that had come between them, he felt a deep sense of both gratitude and sadness.

In his dream he was getting married again. He was standing at the altar dressed in a black tuxedo, waiting for his bride to come down the aisle on her father’s arm. His heart was pounding. Not withanxiety as it had been in real life when he’d married Crystal, but with thrilling excitement. He wanted this. More than he’d wanted anything other than Jazzy’s good health.

Even though he was inside his body, he also felt as if he was outside himself, watching the dream unfold. It was like looking at a pristine scene inside a snow globe. A perfect Christmas Day, a perfect wedding. He was the groom. Jazzy was the flower girl in radiant good health.

And down the aisle, on her father’s arm, walked the perfect bride. The love of Travis’s life.

Sarah.

Travis jerked awake, his body bathed in sweat, his covers tangled around his legs. He had his hand under his pillow and he had something soft and crumbly in his fingers. He pulled it out, blinked at it in the dark. A kismet cookie.

Had Jazzy put it there? Did she want him to dream of Sarah?

He sat up, dazed and confused. And then he heard a sound that chilled him to the bone and knew it was what had awakened him.

The desperate wheezing gasps of his daughter in the throes of the worst asthma attack he’d ever heard.

Sarah had just fallen asleep after finishing her book, when there was a knock at her bedroom door. She glanced at the clock. It was before dawn on Christmas morning.

Groggily, she sat up. “Who is it?”

“Sarah? It’s Raylene Pringle.”

Raylene? What was she doing here at this time ofthe morning? Had something happened to Travis or Jazzy? Sarah tumbled out of bed and threw open the door.

Raylene looked like hell. Her normally well-teased hair hung in strings around her face, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, her clothes were rumpled and stained.

Alarmed, Sarah asked, “What is it?”

“Jazzy. She’s in a bad way and it’s not just her asthma this time. Her heart’s involved. Congestive heart failure or something like that. They’ve got her on a ventilator. Honest to God, I think Dr. Adams is in over his head. He’s scrambling, Travis is freaking out, Crystal is a total mess, the gals from the cookie club are at the hospital chapel holding a prayer vigil. We need a calm head over there. Can you please come?”

Before Raylene got the whole spiel out of her mouth, Sarah was already dressed and had her purse tucked under her arm. “Take me to Travis now.”

“Dr. Adams, paging Dr. Adams,” came a voice over the intercom.

Travis, who’d been pacing the hallway outside the ICU at Twilight General, swiveled his head looking for Jazzy’s doctor. Dr. Adams had been very worried that she’d had a severe reaction to the costly drug they’d been giving her. He’d left to go call a pediatric specialist in Fort Worth. Travis wondered if that’s who was paging him.

He clenched his hands. He’d never felt so helpless in all his life. The ICU nurses had asked that only one parent at a time be in the room and Jazzyhad wanted Crystal to stay, so even though it had practically killed him to leave her, he’d stepped outside.

The pneumatic doors leading into the intensive care unit opened and the head nurse motioned to him. “Jazzy’s asking for you, and her mother asked me to give you this.” She handed him a piece of folded notebook paper.

“Crystal isn’t with her?”

The nurse shook her head. “She mumbled something about not being able to take it and headed down the fire stairs.”

He unfolded the piece of paper and read the simple message scrawled there.

I can’t handle this. I thought I could but I just can’t. Please forgive me.

Fury whipped through him, quickly followed by sorrow. He wadded up the piece of paper, stuffed it in his pocket. How was he going to tell Jazzy that her mother had abandoned her yet again? Travis swallowed hard. Good. Fine. They’d never needed her anyway. Hunching his shoulders, Travis went back into Jazzy’s room.

He stared at his daughter, her chest fluttering as she struggled to breathe. Her skin was the color of dumplings, her cheeks strikingly pink from the fever. Her delicate beauty broke his heart. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her. She was all he had.

You have Sarah.

No. No, he did not. He hadn’t forced Sarah’s hand. He’d agreed to give her some space. It was what she thought she wanted, but it wasn’t what she needed. When she had space, she withdrew.

Travis smacked the palm of his hand hard against his forehead. God, he’d been such a fool to let Crystal back into his life.

“Ass,” he muttered under his breath. He wanted to break something, smash it to smithereens—the expensive monitor mounted on the wall beside Jazzy’s bed, the cheap wooden chair a nurse had drawn up for him to sit in, the face of Dr. Adams, who looked so fucking helpless standing there in the doorway.

It was all he could do not to grab the man by the lapel, shake him so hard his teeth rattled, and scream,
Do something, dammit. Save my daughter. Fix her. Make her well, now.

“Travis,” Dr. Adams murmured. “I am so, so sorry.”

He knew then that in the pediatrician’s eyes, Jazzy wasn’t going to make it this time. Travis’s anger vanished and grief dropped him to his knees. He barely noticed Dr. Adams backing out of the room, closing the door, useless in the face of such helpless sorrow.

The smell of antiseptic burned his nostrils. His mouth tasted salty. Tears. He was crying. He rested his elbows on Jazzy’s bed, clasped his palms together, and bowed his head in supplication. It had been so long since he’d prayed. Years. Not since he was fourteen and he’d prayed for God to save his mother, and he hadn’t. Travis had been pissed off at God for a long time. But now, his back was truly against the wall.

“Please,” he prayed. “Please don’t take Jazzy. Take me instead.”

The sound of his anguish rolled off the walls,washed over his ears. If Jazzy died, he had no reason to live. None at all.

Then a soft rustling noise drew his attention to the doorway. He raised his head and saw her standing there, a witness to the lowest point in his life.

Sarah looked a bit uncertain, holding back a bit, her hands knotted together and held low in front of her. Then her eyes clutched his and she steamed into the room like sunshine.

“She’s not going to die, Travis,” Sarah said with such certainty, so calm and knowing that he actually believed her. “I have called my parents. They’re the best heart specialists in the country and they’ve asked a top-notch pediatrician to consult. I’ve arranged to have Jazzy medevaced to Houston. Dr. Adams has agreed. It’s all taken care of. They are going to cure her. She is going to live.”

Travis stared at her, openmouthed. In that moment, Sarah looked like superwoman—in charge, assertive, unruffled. She was precisely what they needed. He and Jazzy.

Travis knew how difficult this was for her. Taking an emotional risk. Putting herself on the line. Offering all she had to help him and his daughter. He was grateful, so damn grateful.

But there was a part of him, ego perhaps, that felt like he’d failed. He didn’t have the money, resources, or influence Sarah possessed. He couldn’t pick up the phone and call the best doctors in the country. He couldn’t pull money from his wallet and conjure up transport helicopters. He couldn’t protect his own child.

“Sarah.” He whispered her name and got to his feet.

Their gazes cemented.

He had so much to say to her that he didn’t know where to start. Words of regret and gratitude, of apology and thanksgiving crowded his mouth, but before he could find a way to say them, the room flooded with medical personnel.

They were lost in a sea of people, on opposite sides of the room. Doctors, nurses, technicians, respiratory therapists prepared his daughter for her journey. But Sarah’s gaze cradled his. He could hear what she did not say.
I’m with you, Travis, all the way.

Once his daughter was bundled on the gurney, the efficient-looking CareFlite team in jumpsuits propelled her toward the staff elevators that led to the helipad on the roof. “There’s not enough room for you to fly with us,” said the male nurse, who with his sharp features, no-nonsense stance, and buzz haircut looked like he could have been a marine.

“I can’t leave her,” Travis said. “She’s all I’ve got.”

“We’ll take good care of her.” The air ambulance nurse’s tone softened.

He wanted to demand they all let him go with her, but the longer he argued, the more he put Jazzy’s life in danger. He leaned over, kissed his daughter on the forehead, but she didn’t open her eyes. Fear sledgehammered his heart. He clenched his jaw, battled back tears. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart; Daddy will meet you in Houston.”

Sarah slipped an arm around Travis’s shoulder. “I’ve arranged for a private jet. They’re waiting atthe Twilight airfield. We’ll arrive close to the same time Jazzy does.”

Travis looked over at her. Her blue eyes shone brightly as if she was fighting off tears of her own. He couldn’t believe she’d done this. She’d taken care of everything. He should be grateful. Hell, he was grateful, but it was hard for him to let go of the reins, let someone else take over. It made him feel helpless, useless. What kind of father was he if he couldn’t take care of his daughter’s needs?

“I’m going with you,” she said, and then added softly, “That is, if you want me to.” She held out her hand.

He took it, squeezed it, tucked away his pride, and allowed her to lead him from the hospital, because if it hadn’t been for Sarah, he would surely have gone insane.

On the flight to Houston, they held hands. Sarah could feel the tension in his body. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, and gently rubbed his back.

“Crystal ran out on us again.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, passed it to Sarah.

“You’ve got to let go of your rage toward her,” Sarah said. “Crystal has been through more than you can know.”

“What do you mean?”

Softly, she told him about the little boy that his ex-wife had lost.

Travis stared down at his hands; his shoulders slumped. “I had no idea. She never told me about Shiloh. I’m still angry with her, but now at least I can understand where she’s coming from. Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

“It was too painful for her to talk about. She just couldn’t cope with Jazzy’s illness. What she did was wrong, but, Travis, I do believe she’s coping to the best of her ability.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose you’re right. I’m going to have work on forgiving her.”

“After this is over you two can have a long talk and come up with a way for her to be a part of Jazzy’s life.”

“That’s assuming Jazzy makes it.” His voice cracked.

“She’s going to make it,” Sarah said fiercely. “Your daughter is a warrior.”

By the time they arrived in Houston, Sarah’s parents and the pediatric specialists had examined Jazzy in the pediatric medical intensive care unit. Helen and Mitchell Collier stepped into the waiting room just as Sarah and Travis got off the elevator.

“My goodness, Sarah,” her mother exclaimed. “Look at you. You’re slim and you’ve cut your hair. You look wonderful.”

It was then that Sarah realized exactly how long it had been since she’d seen her parents. She’d lost the extra weight last year when she’d joined Weight Watchers and went from a size fourteen to a size eight.

Her parents had changed as well. Streaks of silver were now heavily threaded through her mother’s auburn hair. Her shoulders seemed so small and fragile. Her mother was fifty-seven. How did she continue to manage the long hours in surgery that her career demanded? How much longer would she be able to keep it up?

Her father looked older too, but not in a bad way. He was balding a bit at the temples of his silvery hair and the lines at his eyes had deepened and he was wearing glasses, which gave him a scholarly air.

They both wore green scrubs with white labjackets thrown over them and surgical clogs. They smelled of hospital antiseptic and paper scrub masks. Smells Sarah knew well. Some things never changed.

“Turn around.” Her mother twirled an index finger. “Let me get a good look at you.”

Sarah twirled.

“I’m so proud of you,” Helen Collier said. “You must have shed thirty pounds.”

It irked Sarah that her mother was proud of her for losing weight and not for her other accomplishments, but she let it go. This wasn’t about their past squabbles. This was about saving Jazzy’s life.

“I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to see Jazzy,” she said. “She’s very important to me.”

“All you had to do was ask,” her father said somberly. “We’ve always been just a phone call away.”

As if she was the reason for their estrangement. Sarah let that go as well. The only thing that mattered now was Jazzy. “Let me introduce you to Jazzy’s father,” she said, stepping back and putting an arm on Travis’s shoulder, then tried not to let the jolt of awareness that shot up her fingers show on her face.

“How is she?” Travis asked. “What’s wrong? Dr. Adams seemed at a loss.”

“We have some good news and some bad news,” Dr. Mitchell Collier said. “Perhaps we should sit down.”

Travis paled visibly. “Is it that bad?”

“Not now that you’re in our hands,” Helen said, fully owning her ego. She’d earned the right. “Your daughter has been misdiagnosed for four years. She does not have severe bronchial asthma andthis is why her condition did not improve as she got older.”

“What does she have?” Travis’s entire body was so tense Sarah could see the ridge of muscles bunching along his shoulders. She draped her arm around him, felt him relax slightly. She smiled inwardly at that. To think her touch could comfort him in this time of high stress.

“She’s got cardiac asthma, the treatment of which is completely different than it is for bronchial asthma.”

“But I don’t understand. We took her to several specialists. Why didn’t anyone discover it before now?”

“There’s several reasons,” Mitchell said. “For one thing, Jazzy’s symptoms were atypical for cardiac asthma. Then there was your mother’s history of severe bronchial asthma. Bronchial asthma can be hereditary and that probably predisposed doctors to look there first.”

“What’s causing it?”

“That’s the bad news, Jazzy has a congenital malformation. She needs surgery and she needs it right away.” Sarah’s father and mother proceeded to go into in-depth medical detail about Jazzy’s condition.

“Are you certain?” Travis said. “She was doing so well on that medication Dr. Adams prescribed.”

“That drug was merely masking her symptoms. It wasn’t helping her,” Helen said. “Surgery is the only option.”

“The good news,” Mitchell interjected, “is that Jazzy should make a full recovery.”

“So when are you doing surgery?”

“She’s being prepped right now. We just need you to sign the paperwork.”

Sarah stood back, watching her parents interact with Travis. She’d never been on this side of the equation before. She’d always been the kid being stood up by her parents on Christmas Day. But now, she was with the kid they were spending their Christmas with. A sick child who desperately needed them.

Suddenly, she saw her folks in a whole new light. She wished they’d brought her to the hospital to see the kids they helped. Maybe she wouldn’t have resented Christmas so much. But it didn’t matter. The past was behind her. She remembered something Travis had said to her when she told him about her scar.
Scars are just evidence of where you’ve been, they’re not markers of where you’re going.

Everyone had things in his past he’d like to change. Some kept secrets and those secrets could eat your soul, lead to loneliness and isolation. Like Travis’s father and Crystal. But others were wise enough to open up, to take the emotional risk of sharing their secret pain to find love and acceptance.

Deep inside, Sarah felt a hundred different things all at once. Felt them and let them unfurl inside her. Surprise, joy, relief. The resentment she’d been holding on to slipped away. She canted her head and studied her parents. They were brilliant, accomplished people who made a real difference in the lives of others. They weren’t perfect. They made mistakes, but they tried.

And they loved her, in their way. She could see itin their eyes when they looked at her. Funny, she’d never been able to see it before.

“Sarah,” her mother said as they got to their feet, “can I speak to you in private for a moment?”

“Sure.” She turned to smile at Travis. “I’ll be right back.”

She went down the hall with her mother, pleased at the lack of tension that was normally in the air whenever she was around her. Maybe she’d been as much of the problem as they’d been.

“This is him, isn’t it?” her mother said when they were out of earshot of the waiting room. “The one you had the dreams about when you were a kid.”

Sarah nodded.

“He makes you happy.”

“How can you tell?”

“A mother knows when her child is happy. He loves you, you know.”

“What?”

“He can’t stop looking at you. It’s the same way your father looks at me.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in soul mates and destiny and stuff like that.”

“Maybe not,” her mother said, “but I do believe in the healing power of love. I see it in my practice every day. Hang on to him, sweetheart.” Then in a very uncharacteristic gesture, her mother kissed her cheek. “He’s the one.”

Sarah sat with Travis throughout Jazzy’s surgery. They didn’t talk, just waited, holding hands. She fell asleep curled next to him on the couch. He’d almost fallen asleep himself when he saw her parents step into the waiting room. He stood up, stretched his legs, his heart thumping crazily.

They smiled.

Relief flitted around him. Smiling was good. Travis wanted so badly to believe in a Christmas miracle. No, not a miracle. Sarah had done this. He’d been forced to swallow his pride and let Sarah help him, and thank God for that. Just admitting that he needed help, that he couldn’t do it alone, caused a huge weight to roll from his shoulders. It felt good.

“Your daughter came through the surgery with flying colors,” they assured him.

“We’ll keep her here for a few days,” Helen said. “But we anticipate a full recovery and more than likely you can take her home by the middle of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” he said.

“Go get some rest.” Mitchell Collier clapped him on the shoulder.

“I need to be with my daughter.”

“She’s still under sedation,” Helen said, and glanced over at Sarah, who was still sleeping on the couch.

“Your daughter seems to have taken quite a shine to mine,” Helen murmured. “All Jazzy wanted to know was if you two were here. Oh, and she wanted me to make sure her Isabella doll and that
Magic Cookie
book would be here when she woke up.”

“We’ve got them,” he said, realizing he was talking about himself and Sarah as if they were a couple.

Helen smiled as if she understood everything that was churning through his mind. “You’re a great parent,” she said. “A far better one than Mitchell and I ever were to Sarah. We’ve got a lot to make up for.”

He saw the pain and regret in her eyes. “There’s plenty of time. Sarah wants a real relationship with you.”

“Does she?” Helen looked surprised, but hopeful. “Really?”

“She might not be able to say it, but that’s what she wants more than anything.”

Helen shook her head. “You’re what she wants more than anything. I see the way she looks at you.”

Could it be true? Travis shook his head, wanting to believe it, but afraid to get his hopes up. “When can we see Jazzy?”

“Mitchell and I are going to check in on her to make sure everything is on target, and a nurse will come get you when she’s settled.”

Travis looked over to see Sarah had awakened and was standing with her arms folded over her chest, holding herself apart.

Her parents departed, leaving Travis and Sarah alone in the silent waiting room. His eyes stared straight into hers.

Travis reached out and took her hand. “I was a fool,” he said. “A damn fool to let you talk me into giving Crystal another chance.”

“She’s Jazzy’s mother; I had to convince you try to fix things with her. And you weren’t a fool. Crystal is hurting. She needs a little compassion.”

“You’ve been more of a mother to Jazzy in three weeks than Crystal ever was.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t sympathize with Crystal’s plight. She tries her best, even if it’s not good enough. Some people just aren’t cut out to be full-time mothers.”

“You’re thinking about your own mother,” Travis said.

“I’m not blaming my parents for who they are. I understand them better now than I ever did before and I think they understand me a little better too. But you really should give Crystal another chance to make amends.”

“I’ll try.” He nodded. “There’s another reason I was a damn fool.”

“What’s that?”

“I got my feelings hurt.”

“I hurt your feelings?”

“Damn straight. When you told me what happened between us in the cabin was nothing more than a good time. While a guy likes to know he’s able to please his lady, that doesn’t mean he likes to be treated like a sex object.”

“Poor baby.”

“That’s right, be glib about the knife you stabbed in my heart.”

Sarah sobered. “Did I really hurt you?”

“I felt like you ripped out my heart and stomped it with those stiletto boots of yours. In my pain, I couldn’t see the truth. That you were hurting as much as I was.”

“Jazzy knew best.” Sarah smiled. “She put a kismet cookie underneath my pillow on Christmas Eve.”

“She put one under my pillow as well.”

“Did you dream of your one true love?” Sarah asked.

He looked deeply into her eyes. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I dreamed of my wedding day.”

“And who were you getting married to?”

“My soul mate.”

“What did he look like?”

“How do you know it was a he?” she teased.

He smiled. “It was me.”

She swatted him lightly on the shoulder. “Look at the ego on you.”

“You told me nine years ago, but I was in no position to listen. You were only fifteen.”

“But you liked me?”

“Yeah, but how could I admit that? You were a kid and I was getting married to Crystal. I attributed the feelings to cold feet, but part of me knew there was something there. Something I could not admit.”

“Really bad timing on my part.”

“But I’m no longer married to Crystal,” he said, “and you’re no longer a kid. I’ve been with a lot of women in my time, Sarah. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of, but I’ve never … no one has ever …”—he paused, searching for the right words—“impacted me the way you have.”

“Right back at you, big guy.”

“I love you, Sarah Collier. You might not be able to say it back to me right now, but I know you love me too. You told me once upon a time that I was your destiny and you were correct.”

He stopped, realizing that she needed time to process. He had to take a deep breath and step back and just give her the time she required. He couldn’t push her into this. She had to come willingly into her emotions. He’d let her know how he felt. The rest was up to her.

He had to fist his hands at his side to keep from moving toward her. He met her gaze and waited. What would she do?

Sarah caught Travis’s gaze and her heart swelled.

She was attracted to his openhearted generosity. The way he willingly gave of his time to others. He had a provocative way of engaging with people and activity, submersing himself in life. Their communication styles were completely different. He loved parties and people. He went out and tried new things while she moved away to analyze and think.