By Linda Boulanger (Thoughtless/Blue Skies/January)
She looked like hell. Auburn hair that used to always sport the latest style hung limply to her shoulders. It was now streaked with gray. Eyes, the most amazing combination of light and dark blue, had lost their sparkle. He remembered staring into them, seeing the love in his face mirrored back at him. Now they only assessed him above dark circles in a gaunt face. She was wary, not unexpected to one life had been unkind to. And it was obvious her life had been hard by the way she looked.
Sorrow shot through him. He rejected it, squaring his shoulders, hardening his own features. It hadn’t needed to be that way for her. She could have had much more. It was her choice to walk out on him.
“Sara.” He nodded curtly, his voice all business as he slid into the seat across from her.
She smiled. His insides jumped. For a split second she was that girl again, the one who had made him know that love was real.
“I’m glad you came, Lance.” Her voice was just as sweet, changing little from the young woman he’d known. “You look great. Life has treated you well. I’m glad.”
He thought he saw pain flash behind those eyes that had so captivated him. They had been unfading blue skies no matter how dark or stormy the world became, and in them he’d seen the reflection of his own dreams, their dreams.
“I’ve done okay.” This would be an opportune time to brag about his success, really flaunt before her what she’d missed out on…
“I knew you would. Makes everything worth it to see you happy.” Brows knit, she frowned. “I know you’re successful. I’ve kept up. I heard about your marriage and the problems. I’m sorry.” She paused. “Are you happy, Lance?”
What the hell kind of question was that for her to ask? What business was it of hers? Kept up? She’d watched his life all those years, knew then that he’d followed his dreams, made it big as an architect. He’d become who and what they’d talked about as kids. As young college students, wrapped in each other’s arms, they’d made decisions, planned their courses. She wanted to be an interior designer, choosing the elements that went into the houses he’d design. They’d mapped out their futures … together. It was supposed to be the two of them! She’d taken his heart, he’d loved her – made love to her, expected them to be one in all things.
And she’d left him.
Why’d you want to see me, Sara?” His biting tone stung. He could see it in eyes that always gave her away. Oh how he loved her eyes!
She dropped her head, hiding those eyes from his view. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s … important.”
Well, that rather went without saying. Actually, she had said it when she’d called to ask him to meet her. She told him it was not something that could be discussed over the phone then given him nothing more to go on except the urgency in her closing please.
“Lance, back in college we … I … I got …”
“Mom?”
Heads swiveled toward the young woman approaching the table. Her brows were drawn above the same blue eyes as the woman she’d called mom, but the rest of her … Lance couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was like looking into a mirror.
“Sara?” Still his eyes didn’t move from the younger woman.
“Mom?” The questioned name was asked again. “What’s going on? I thought we were having lunch together?” The younger women looked from Lance to her mom then back again, her eyes asking why he was intruding on their private luncheon.
Lance smiled slightly. Her eyes were not quite the same as her mother’s. They carried a dark glint of cautiousness; something he’d always been accused of. He’d even been afraid of following his dreams though Sara had pressed him to pursue, to press on, and go after them no matter the cost.
He looked back at Sara. Why had she left him, denied him knowing their child? He mouthed the question. Why?
Sara shook her head. “Sit down, Abigail. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Abigail hesitated, pushing her perfectly styled, near-black hair behind her ears. With a huff, she dropped rather dramatically into the seat beside her mother.
“Lance Morrison, Abigail Prescott. Abigail, Lance is your father.”
Hearing the words spoken out loud and so bluntly was as good as a belly punch. Lance felt as if he couldn’t breathe, was sure he couldn’t as his adult daughter rose from her chair in such haste that the table scooted forcibly against his middle.
“My fa… Mom! What are you talking about? I think the chemo’s making you crazy. My dad’s name is Blake Prescott…”
Sara’s hand shot out to gently grasp Abigail’s wrist and urge her back into the chair beside her. “Yes and no. You’ve always known, baby.” The older woman wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders, holder her as realization began to sink in. Abigail’s face contorted in an attempt to hold back tears.
Lance closed his eyes for a moment, unable to bear the pain in the two sets of eyes that seemed locked on him. He felt numb and yet his heart beat violently behind the wall of his chest. His insides shook.
“Why, Sara?” He broke the deafening silence. Sara had never been the thoughtless type and yet her actions seemed so heartless … so unlike her.
With a half-laugh she began. “We had so many dreams, Lance. Big dreams. And then I realized I was pregnant. We were only two years into our Bachelors’ Degrees. Years loomed before us, before you especially, in order to achieve those dreams.” She looked at Abigail. “I knew I could find a way to take care of you.” She hugged her daughter tightly as she looked back at Lance. “But, if you’d known … I knew you. You’d have given up everything to take care of us. You’d have given up your dreams. I knew I had to go before you returned for classes in January.”
Another gut punch. “Why this? Why now?”
Abigail shifted in her chair, pulling out of her mother’s embrace just long enough to return the supporting hug. “It’s because of the cancer, isn’t it?”
Sara nodded, her tears running freely now.
“And with Dad gone…” She looked at Lance, her expression half apologetic, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. “My mom married Blake Prescott after he rescued a young, unwed pregnant girl.” She kissed her mother’s graying hair. “You always said he was your white knight but I never completely understood before now exactly what he rescued you from, Mom. You gave up your own dreams for us.”
Lance felt the sting of his own tears. They threatened to fall for all the lost time, for Sara. She’d given up everything for him and their daughter. And now …
His gaze washed softly over the only woman he’d ever truly loved. She hadn’t had a hard life. She was sick. His Sara… He couldn’t ask. Abigail had said cancer.
Lance took the hand that slipped across the table and looked into eyes the color of unfading blue skies that told him no matter how dark or stormy the world appeared, dreams could still come true. How many times had he dreamed she’d walk back into his life? She’d stormed in and brought with her the daughter he’d always wanted but could never have. He saw hope, his hope, reflected in both pairs of sky blue eyes.
She looked like hell. Auburn hair that used to always sport the latest style hung limply to her shoulders. It was now streaked with gray. Eyes, the most amazing combination of light and dark blue, had lost their sparkle. He remembered staring into them, seeing the love in his face mirrored back at him. Now they only assessed him above dark circles in a gaunt face. She was wary, not unexpected to one life had been unkind to. And it was obvious her life had been hard by the way she looked.
Sorrow shot through him. He rejected it, squaring his shoulders, hardening his own features. It hadn’t needed to be that way for her. She could have had much more. It was her choice to walk out on him.
“Sara.” He nodded curtly, his voice all business as he slid into the seat across from her.
She smiled. His insides jumped. For a split second she was that girl again, the one who had made him know that love was real.
“I’m glad you came, Lance.” Her voice was just as sweet, changing little from the young woman he’d known. “You look great. Life has treated you well. I’m glad.”
He thought he saw pain flash behind those eyes that had so captivated him. They had been unfading blue skies no matter how dark or stormy the world became, and in them he’d seen the reflection of his own dreams, their dreams.
“I’ve done okay.” This would be an opportune time to brag about his success, really flaunt before her what she’d missed out on…
“I knew you would. Makes everything worth it to see you happy.” Brows knit, she frowned. “I know you’re successful. I’ve kept up. I heard about your marriage and the problems. I’m sorry.” She paused. “Are you happy, Lance?”
What the hell kind of question was that for her to ask? What business was it of hers? Kept up? She’d watched his life all those years, knew then that he’d followed his dreams, made it big as an architect. He’d become who and what they’d talked about as kids. As young college students, wrapped in each other’s arms, they’d made decisions, planned their courses. She wanted to be an interior designer, choosing the elements that went into the houses he’d design. They’d mapped out their futures … together. It was supposed to be the two of them! She’d taken his heart, he’d loved her – made love to her, expected them to be one in all things.
And she’d left him.
Why’d you want to see me, Sara?” His biting tone stung. He could see it in eyes that always gave her away. Oh how he loved her eyes!
She dropped her head, hiding those eyes from his view. “I need to talk to you about something. It’s … important.”
Well, that rather went without saying. Actually, she had said it when she’d called to ask him to meet her. She told him it was not something that could be discussed over the phone then given him nothing more to go on except the urgency in her closing please.
“Lance, back in college we … I … I got …”
“Mom?”
Heads swiveled toward the young woman approaching the table. Her brows were drawn above the same blue eyes as the woman she’d called mom, but the rest of her … Lance couldn’t take his eyes off her. It was like looking into a mirror.
“Sara?” Still his eyes didn’t move from the younger woman.
“Mom?” The questioned name was asked again. “What’s going on? I thought we were having lunch together?” The younger women looked from Lance to her mom then back again, her eyes asking why he was intruding on their private luncheon.
Lance smiled slightly. Her eyes were not quite the same as her mother’s. They carried a dark glint of cautiousness; something he’d always been accused of. He’d even been afraid of following his dreams though Sara had pressed him to pursue, to press on, and go after them no matter the cost.
He looked back at Sara. Why had she left him, denied him knowing their child? He mouthed the question. Why?
Sara shook her head. “Sit down, Abigail. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Abigail hesitated, pushing her perfectly styled, near-black hair behind her ears. With a huff, she dropped rather dramatically into the seat beside her mother.
“Lance Morrison, Abigail Prescott. Abigail, Lance is your father.”
Hearing the words spoken out loud and so bluntly was as good as a belly punch. Lance felt as if he couldn’t breathe, was sure he couldn’t as his adult daughter rose from her chair in such haste that the table scooted forcibly against his middle.
“My fa… Mom! What are you talking about? I think the chemo’s making you crazy. My dad’s name is Blake Prescott…”
Sara’s hand shot out to gently grasp Abigail’s wrist and urge her back into the chair beside her. “Yes and no. You’ve always known, baby.” The older woman wrapped her arms around her daughter’s shoulders, holder her as realization began to sink in. Abigail’s face contorted in an attempt to hold back tears.
Lance closed his eyes for a moment, unable to bear the pain in the two sets of eyes that seemed locked on him. He felt numb and yet his heart beat violently behind the wall of his chest. His insides shook.
“Why, Sara?” He broke the deafening silence. Sara had never been the thoughtless type and yet her actions seemed so heartless … so unlike her.
With a half-laugh she began. “We had so many dreams, Lance. Big dreams. And then I realized I was pregnant. We were only two years into our Bachelors’ Degrees. Years loomed before us, before you especially, in order to achieve those dreams.” She looked at Abigail. “I knew I could find a way to take care of you.” She hugged her daughter tightly as she looked back at Lance. “But, if you’d known … I knew you. You’d have given up everything to take care of us. You’d have given up your dreams. I knew I had to go before you returned for classes in January.”
Another gut punch. “Why this? Why now?”
Abigail shifted in her chair, pulling out of her mother’s embrace just long enough to return the supporting hug. “It’s because of the cancer, isn’t it?”
Sara nodded, her tears running freely now.
“And with Dad gone…” She looked at Lance, her expression half apologetic, aware of the awkwardness of the situation. “My mom married Blake Prescott after he rescued a young, unwed pregnant girl.” She kissed her mother’s graying hair. “You always said he was your white knight but I never completely understood before now exactly what he rescued you from, Mom. You gave up your own dreams for us.”
Lance felt the sting of his own tears. They threatened to fall for all the lost time, for Sara. She’d given up everything for him and their daughter. And now …
His gaze washed softly over the only woman he’d ever truly loved. She hadn’t had a hard life. She was sick. His Sara… He couldn’t ask. Abigail had said cancer.
Lance took the hand that slipped across the table and looked into eyes the color of unfading blue skies that told him no matter how dark or stormy the world appeared, dreams could still come true. How many times had he dreamed she’d walk back into his life? She’d stormed in and brought with her the daughter he’d always wanted but could never have. He saw hope, his hope, reflected in both pairs of sky blue eyes.