The stone skipped across the still lake, shattering the serene blanket of glistening silk, until it sank with a soft plop. How many was that now four, ten, twenty? Michael had lost count. He had also lost track of time since driving out to Lake Ellis. He realized this as his clouded blue eyes moved to the watch on his wrist. It was well past noon and he had promised David he would come visit him at the hospital.
Sighing, Michael stood to his full height, his eyes purposely avoiding the dock that was approximately fifteen feet from shore. He was still clueless as to what if anything he should do. If he told Sara about Paul and Kelly it would hurt her, and she had been through so much already. This was the constant debate within, as another part of him would now argue that Lincoln was right, that he couldn't just let her marry Paul. He couldn't hide Sara from this pain forever.
"Are we hiding from someone"?
Michael cupped his hands to his head as his eyes moved to the dock. He let out his breath in a deeper sigh as the memories came back, memories he had refused to let cloud his thoughts, influence his decision making, until now. Memories of that night so long ago, the two of them under the dock, the moon glow lighting Sara's glistening skin… her wet fingers playing lightly against his cheek.
"Sara," how unsure he must have sounded, but she had just shushed him as she moved closer, her gentle hands coming up to cup his face, her eyes grown bold by alcohol and opportunity. What she must have seen in his eyes then, Michael could only guess even now, but if it was any reflection of what he had felt having her so near it was no wonder she had moved closer still, finding his eager lips.
He could almost feel the wet silk of auburn hair, could almost taste the saltiness of Sara's skin, the smell of wood smoke as the memory built, taking him back, under the dock …to a time when she was his if only he had known it…
But he had pushed her away that night, in fear of what would happen if he didn't get away from her. She was so drunk…
"Sara...I...we...I
mean, we can't do this…I mean you've been drinking and we... we
should go back...don't you think"? "Um, yeah…Sure…We
should go back,"
"We should go back…If only we could go back…"
It was time immeasurably spent as the tears fell and dried upon his cheeks, his eyes never leaving the dock as it floated just out of reach.
And then thinking he had the answer and realizing he had known what that answer would be all along; Michael turned and headed back to his car.
XXXXX
The box was on the small side, but it easily held the few things Paul had given her that she wished to return to him, the two karat plus engagement ring now resting alongside a three dollar toothbrush and some other toiletries. The bottom of the box held a few t-shirts and essential clothing items he had kept at the cottage. All were stacked atop one another neatly, despite the hasty pace in which Sara was working. She wanted every trace of Paul removed from the cottage and the sooner the better. David would be coming home the following day and it would be easier if, well nothing could make something like this easy but it would be better if they were to get this awkward moment over with, without the presence of small, hurt filled eyes and trembling lips. Then she would just have to tell her son, explain as best she could and try to assess the damage...
With an ache in her chest, Sara closed the lid of the box and hefted it into her arms. She was setting it down on the chair when a soft knock sounded against the front door. He was early. Her quick eyes confirmed this as she spied the watch fastened snugly against her wrist. The watch, a gift from Paul was another item she needed to place inside the box. Stripping it from her arm, Sara tossed it into the box, the lid having popped back open, and then made her way to the door.
"You're early, " was on her lips as her eyes hit concerned blue and then tipped away to land just over his left shoulder to the slice of clear, blue summer sky that could not equal in hue what was now, with just a brief glance burned into her retinas. But then nothing in nature ever could equal Michael's eyes and Sara knew this, had seen the echo of their beauty and intensity in her son's eyes every day for the past five years. Michael's presence at her door now sent Sara's thoughts flying back to her recent visit to Lake Ellis and then she was forcing these thoughts at bay.
"Hey Sara."
"Michael, ah, come in." As if the door was her barrier Sara pushed it aside to allow Michael to step inside the cottage. But despite this invitation, she was not sure she welcomed this visit, not now, and she placed another barrier up, one invisible, but just as strong, or so she hoped, one that straightened her spine with resolve. Michael would learn of the dissolution of her relationship with Paul, but not today, not if she could help it. He would learn of her troubles only when she was ready to disclose the information, and not until she was ready for his reaction.
But why was Michael there in the first place? This question nibbled at Sara's overworked mind as he followed her into the tidy cottage. He knew David was still at the hospital and he also knew that Paul had forbidden such visits.
Forbidden…
This brought forth the searing memory of their shared kiss at the hospital and Sara suddenly felt nervous. Was this to be another confrontation? Was Michael here to ask her why she had kissed
him and what it meant? She wasn't sure she was up to this; that her façade could withstand the onslaught.
Forcing more steel into her spine, "Would you like some iced tea, lemon aide? It's not fresh squeezed but then I have been a bit busy these days." Was she rambling?
"Sure, yeah, sure, some lemon aide would be great."
Quick steps took Sara into the kitchen where she poured their drinks and then all too quickly she was back, setting the tall glasses on the coffee table. Michael, his back to Sara when she entered the room, turned at the sound of glass hitting wood and made his way to the sofa where he took a seat. But he did not look comfortable, not in the least. Sara had a moment but just, to register this, and then he was speaking, "Are you moving again?"
She followed Michael's eyes to the box on the chair and shook her head. "Those are Paul's things. He ah…" Now why had she said that? Backing up, or at least trying to back pedal, "He ah, asked me to donate some things for him…to the local shelter. I was just packing them up when you came to the door." The lie making her uncomfortable, Sara avoided Michael's eyes and reached for her drink. She took a small sip and set it back down, her eyes still on the glass as she wiped the condensation from the wet tumbler on her jean clad thighs. Was he wondering why now, with everything that was going on, they should chose to clean out their closets?
"Oh, yeah, yeah I probably need to do that too, you know, get rid of some things. Amazing how much junk you can accumulate in a short time. I think I'm becoming a packrat." Michael brought the glass to his slightly smiling lips and took a sip. "This is good, by the way, thanks."
"It's not my mother's lemon aide, but yeah, it's not bad." At the mention of Grace, Michael's eyes shot back to Sara only to dip away. And she knew like she, he must be remembering the day he first arrived in New York, the day they sat drinking lemon aide, her eyes begging him to back up her untruth about not being late to pick him up at the airport.
They both sat lost in silence, the shared memory only adding to the awkwardness of the moment and their equally harried thoughts.
And then unable to stand it any longer, Sara took the plunge, "So, what brings you here, Michael? David won't be home until tomorrow, you know?"
"Yeah, I… I know. I kind of needed to talk to you about something, Sara." His eyes moved back to the box on the chair as he rubbed his hands along his lean thighs, only to come to rest on his knees where his fingers began to tap nervously.
"Okay, I'm listening." Sara said cautiously as her eyes landed on his fidgeting fingers.
As the silent seconds ticked away Sara grew more and more nervous...
XXXXX
He had known this would be hard, but Michael was finding this more difficult with each passing breath. When Sara opened the door his first thought was how beautiful she looked only to be replaced with worry as he took in her tired features, her eyes a dim copper where usually they shone from within or at least they seemed to, to his own entranced eyes. And now she was looking at him expectantly, a worry reflected from those eyes as she watched him fidget.
In an effort to force his fingers to still their dance, Michael hopped up and stuck his hands into his pockets. He could feel her eyes following him as he began to pace. And now that he was up and moving he had to wonder what it was he was hoping to accomplish. Did he think his moving feet could coax forth the words he needed to speak, bring him closer to the place he needed to be in order to upend Sara's life once again? But he had to do this, didn't he?
Still unsure of anything, his inner thoughts at war, a battle of what was right, of what he thought was right pitted against his own desires, of what he was afraid might just be his own selfish need to tell her, to free her so… So that what, so he could have a shot, a chance at getting back something he never should have lost in the first place?
"Sara, I ah," his pacing had taken him near the chair where he stopped as the broken sentence fell from his lips, the sentence which upon completion would have been something thrown together in his efforts to not tell her something that would etch pain into the deep coppery depths he had memorized so long ago. It could wait couldn't it, this revelation? The wedding wasn't tomorrow, it was a ways off. In this, his moment of vocal paralysis spawned by indecision, his eyes moved over the contents of the open box taking in the wrist watch resting next to a small ring box and a toothbrush.
She already knew…
"Sara?" he was turning around to face her as she pushed in front of him.
Avoiding his questioning eyes, Sara grabbed the box and tamped the lid closed with hands made shaky in their haste.
"Sara…Talk to me, please?" His hands found the edges of the box she now held in her hands, blocking her escape. Where she thought she was going with the box he hadn't a clue, but Michael had no intention of letting her go anywhere, not this time.
"Talk to me."
XXXXX
"Talk to you, Michael? I don't want to talk about this with you." A shake of her auburn head sent a cascade of hair slipping to cover a forehead etched with pain and then closed over troubled eyes, a tactical maneuver honed to perfection no doubt, in the years since he had left her.
Sara was still clutching the box, her fingers digging into the cardboard as if she needed something to hold onto and if this flimsy barrier between the two of them was it, she vowed she would hold on to it with a death grip.
Despite her efforts she would have sworn she could feel the warmth of him through the four walls that held Paul's belongings. Michael's fingers on the edges of the box were mere inches from her aching digits, lending to this belief. But wasn't it a false warmth? Where once upon a time she would have believed there was nothing that couldn't be solved in his arms it was those same arms, the beat of the heart beneath the rising breath in his chest that scared her so, that warned her, that if she were to allow it a moment's pulse against her equally pounding heart…And if she were to talk to Michael…To confide in him…No, she couldn't do this again, not today, not when she felt so raw and in need of comfort.
"It's over, isn't it, with Paul? The engagement is off?" When she gave no answer, Michael released his grip on the box and reached inside to find the much smaller box nestled within. Sara could hear the soft hinge of the ring box as he opened it, the contents speaking volumes in the heavy quiet of the room.
"I'm sorry, Sara."
"Are you? I would think this is what you would have wanted, Michael." With these harsh words Sara released the box, shoving it towards Michael, leaving him with no choice but to let it fill his arms.
She was using anger as a defense, a flimsy one at best, its walls more sure to cave against pressure than those of the box Michael now held in his arms, but at least it was something.
She turned away from his wounded eyes her intention to gain distance, her next best defense, but his words when he spoke, stopped her. "I never wanted this, for them to hurt you like this…How could you think that, Sara?"
"Them?" She turned back to him, her eyes truly ablaze now, her anger more real than the forced act of a moment ago. Her hair, were it to fall now, in true danger of being singed from the heat alone, if not for the shaky hand that shoved it to safety behind an ear.
How could Michael know about Paul and Kelly?
"What do you know about them? How do you know about any of this, Michael?"
The look in his eyes told her he knew everything, or at least enough and somehow this, this new betrayal on top of so many old and new hurts alike was it for her.
"Get out of my house." Her voice, more calm than it had felt in her head, in the space it had occupied in her chest before it broke to the surface, filled the room, but he didn't move. It was as if she hadn't spoken. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE, MICHAEL!" At higher volume this time,
but Sara didn't wait for him to react to her demands, instead she turned and ran for the door herself, thinking if he wouldn't leave then she would.
Her keys were on the table and she slowed to snatch them up. The jingle of the metal joining in with Michael's voice as he began to plead with her to not go, as his fingers wrapped around her wrist holding her in place.
She turned to him then, her back going against the closed door. "You knew and you didn't tell me?" The tears sprang to her eyes and fell in an instant to roll down flushed cheeks as she voiced her next question softly. "How could you keep something like that from me, Michael?"
"I'm so sorry," his voice was so low, almost a whisper, but it was easily heard in the short distance between them. "I just…I didn't want to hurt you anymore, Sara…To see you hurt like that after everything you've been through…I came here to tell you but I couldn't do it…I couldn't stand to see the hurt in your eyes. And to know that I put that hurt there…again." His eyes filled with tears and then he was moving closer, his body only inches away, his hands coming to rest on the door, each one cradling the space beside her, mere inches from her as his head fell beside hers to the wood of the door, so close but still not touching.
The tears stuck in Sara's throat then, keeping company with her breath. Her arms were straight down by her sides as a new memory assaulted her, the memory of her body and a door pressed between Michael and the Chicago night air. A night six years ago when she couldn't wait to reach his arms, the arms that were easily within her reach now, if only she would allow it. Sara knew the next move was hers and Michael would wait for her to make it. But she also knew it was a move she was unwilling to make.
"It's too late Michael. We're not in Chicago anymore." This was voiced softly as she pushed his unresisting arm aside and slid passed him. She didn't look back as she moved away, her body almost as numb as her mind, but for the building ache in her chest.
There wasn't a sound from where Michael stood behind her, he had yet to move, his head was still resting against the door. She heard no movement at all from him until she was halfway down the hall that led to the bedrooms.
Once outside the bedroom door she paused and laid her face against the cool wood, its surface doing little to absorb the tears that slipped down her cheeks.
Sara wasn't sure how much time passed as she stood there, but it was only in the echo of the soft sigh of the front door going closed, that she finally shut herself away in her room.