Pursuing Sarah (Sarah Series Book 2) Read online

  Pursuing Sarah

  Copyright © 2017 Julieann Dove

  All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons –living or dead –or places, events, or locales is purely accidental. The characters are reproductions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Formatting by Dallas Hodge, Everything But The Book

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  For my Tula,

  You have no idea how you inspire me. I love you to Pluto and back!

  5 Years Later

  “Seriously.” I dug in the basket for a shirt to fold. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve consummated a relationship?”

  “Hmm…” Liz tapped her lip. “Considering you just used the word consummated, I’m guessing sometime much after it became referred to as a booty call. Let’s see, that would be—”

  “Oh my gosh! Are you serious? Do you really think he was asking for a booty call?”

  Liz doubled over laughing. “Uh, yeah. But wait, what exactly did he say? Although it does sound like Carter, why would he ask you for one?”

  I threw a sock at her. “And what’s wrong with me, thank you very much. I’m a girl. A decent enough one. I mean, I brush my teeth, get my dead ends clipped every seven weeks. Okay, so sometimes I trim my own bangs and wait three months for a complete trim. But I don’t look that bad, do I?” I checked out my reflection in the mirror on the dresser, frowning a bit when I said it.

  I can’t remember the last time someone halfway decent commented on the fact I was a girl, or the fact my looks didn’t offend, let alone ask for a booty call. I’ve been knee-deep in raising a daughter and working on being the best guidance counselor I can possibly be for the past too many years to count.

  “You look fine, Sarah. It’s just that, well, we’re kind of a pack. You don’t ask someone in the pack something like that.”

  I knew very well Liz and Carter exchanged a few booty calls. But that was before the pack. Before I came to work at Calvert High. Then we sort of all began hanging out, and that’s the extent of that. Hanging out. And as for Carter and Liz—it was back in the day that Carter’s wife just left him, and Liz was in between lovers. In fact, I think she got burned pretty bad by a guy she thought was the one. Now she makes a point never to label any of the men she dates. I lose track, in fact. To help in the identification of them, I’ve begun referring to them as interesting articles of clothing. Like, “where is Sloppy Jeans, haven’t seen him for a while.” Or, “did Sandal Guy take you to the movies last night?” The guy wore sandals in thirty-degree weather. What else could’ve been his name?

  I stopped folding for a second and tried to reenact the moment it happened. “Okay, so we were standing in the kitchen. Larry said the napkins were in the pantry. And Carter kind of leaned in, his eyes half-closed, his breath reeking of beer, and said, ‘Why don’t we go back to my place after this?’ And then his forehead sprung up and down, suggesting other things to occur once we were back at his place.”

  Liz’s eyes searched the room. “Well, the only thing I can surmise is he was drunk. You know Carter when he gets inebriated. He gets punchy, and…well, horny. I’m sure he didn’t know who he was talking to.”

  “Gee, thanks. I’ll have you know, just last week Jared Collins winked at me, and said how pretty my outfit was.” Why did I use him as an example? I knew the mistake before I even mentioned it.

  “Jared Collins? The pervert science teacher with inch-long nails that he uses to pick his teeth in the lounge? While he’s talking to you?” Her face contorted.

  “Yep, that’s the one.” I sighed and shrugged, wishing I never said anything. About Jared or Carter.

  “I see.”

  It got quiet.

  “So what did you do? Obviously, you didn’t take Carter up on his offer, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “Oh, let’s see, I laughed like an idiot, and I think I punched him on the arm and ran out of the kitchen. Ketchup still smeared on my cheek from where he jarred my arm and made my sandwich miss my mouth.”

  “How long has it been for you, Sarah? Not that I’m encouraging anything for you and Carter. You know, the pack thing. But seriously? Girl, I haven’t seen you out with anyone in…in forever. Come to think of it, like never.”

  “Well, let’s see.” I leaned against the wall, one hand on my hip, and the other pointing mathematically in the air. “There were those couple years I got two hours’ sleep at five-hour intervals. The bags underneath my eyes could’ve served as banana hammocks. And for the last two years, I’ve been working straight through the weekends. Either washing clothes and figuring out what to make for dinner, or doing my files for work.”

  “I think it’s time, honey. We can either go to the city and just find what we find, or you can warm up some dating sites online. Whichever you prefer. I just don’t want your girl parts to shrivel up and die. Not to mention you need to do something for you. Rose is going to grow up and go away. Then what? You’ll be stuck with this body that doesn’t work, and a dryer cycle that somehow just doesn’t do it for you anymore.” She pointed at my body as though it was soon to cross the pitiful line.

  Really? Rose is turning five. She isn’t even enrolled in school yet. The roundup for incoming kindergarten is in two weeks. And dating sites? Not again!

  “Liz, I don’t know why I even mentioned it. Now you’ll spend every waking moment harassing me. I’ll come out of my single status coma when I’m ready.”

  Liz would say all those things. And believe all those things. Girl parts shriveling. Ha! That’s something she never has to worry about. She sleeps with anyone…any time the mood strikes. Jared Collins might be the only safe man in town from her net of promiscuous behavior. I’m not sure why I hang out with her. She’s a terrible influence, she doesn’t know what the knobs on a stove are used for, and she snaps gum while she talks. But she’s the first person when I moved back here who didn’t make me feel as though I was walking around for nine months with a giant spider attached to my stomach. The kind with fur and sixteen legs that you had to keep staring at, because you didn’t want it to jump off me and grab hold of you yourself. I met her in the coffee shop on Main Street. Evelyn Snyder, from church, asked whether I knew who the father was while I stood in line, waiting for Susie Spencer to figure out how to make a latte. Liz walked up and said it might be one of the men from the choir, so we were going to have to do a paternity test once it was born. I giggled, but Evelyn Snyder huffed and dashed out of the shop without even getting what she went in for.

  There was certainly no need for a paternity test. Sam Turner was the father—he just didn’t know it. I, like always, weighed the pros and cons, ripped out a sheet of paper and listed them sensibly. The cons won out by a landslide. Gennifer kept popping up like an ugly two-headed gopher on the con side. The last thing I wanted was to share custody of my baby with that deranged woman. I figured she was still in the picture, because when I reached out to Sam about the div
orce, he said he would have Gennifer gather the things I left at the house and send them to me. Up until the moment he uttered the “G” word, I was conflicted about my feelings for him. I thought what we were building…what we had…was something. I’m not sure what, but I was serious enough about him to take vows, for goodness’ sakes. I was completely in love with Sophie. It took me forever to get over thinking about her every day. Looking at the clock and imagining what she was doing…whether she ate her fruits and dairy that day. But again, Gennifer blocked any sort of communication I wanted to pursue with Sophie or Sam.

  I sought out a life coach to get me through the tougher times. I say a life coach; actually, it’s my old best friend from high school, Maggie Morrow. Technically she is a licensed psychiatrist, but now she’s a stay-at-home mom, and her name changed to Maggie Smith. It’s still hard to believe she’s married to Michael, the class jock. Not that Maggie couldn’t hook up with a guy like Michael without a date drug, but Maggie was always somewhat of a wallflower. Her four years in high school were spent as class treasurer, teacher’s pet, and garden club president extraordinaire. Michael, on the other hand, got expelled for crashing into the plot of land where the garden club was harvesting boxwoods for the spring sale in town. He and a couple of his buddies got drunk before the first football scrimmage and plowed all twenty-four bushes into kindling for bird nests. The next time they met up was right after his nasty divorce. Maggie’s practice was across the hall from his attorney, and the rest is history.

  Anyway, Maggie made me realize that Sam, although a catch by all standards, was someone safe for me, and I was his rebound. She tried to sell me on the fact he was a single dad, and I was used to that, seeing I took care of my own dad, who was single all the days I knew him. I sort of knew it already, but being told by a qualified stranger helped let it sink in. I felt less loser-like, and more prone to seeing it as a recurring problem I’d had all my life—dealing with my dad’s unhappiness, and my goal for making him quite the opposite.

  Luckily, Sam didn’t pursue me in any way for the past five years after I left Charleston. When I finally called him about the legalities of what had to be done, I told him about Dad, and he left it alone about how things ended with us. I say luckily, but it hurt that he didn’t seem to miss me more than what he let on. I missed him, believe it or not…that liar. Identifying with him as a single dad or not, I loved Sam. And when I went to have the ultrasound to find out the gender of my baby—our baby—I cried the whole way home, knowing how much I wanted Sam to be a part of it. But certainly not at the cost of sharing her with Gennifer. No, he had his family. And I was happy to have my small one. If he never knew about her, it would never hurt. At least not him.

  “I guess Carter was drunk when he offered to take me back to his place. Or maybe he was just feeling sorry for me.” I continued to fold the last couple of shirts from the basket. “At least I hope he was…drunk, that is. It would be so awkward if he wasn’t.” I rolled my eyes.

  Carter Williams. I must admit, when I interviewed with him for the job as school counselor, I was a bit tongue-tied. Sitting across from his desk, trying not to stare. Keeping my breaths regulated and stabbing my fingers with the sharp edge of my binder portfolio to stay focused. You would’ve thought I’d been incarcerated the two years previous—not used to the opposite sex being so near and close enough to touch. Outside of the screen of a television. The fact remained, I wasn’t use to it. Not at all.

  Ah, Carter. That dark hair, those green eyes, the boyish kind of smile, and that way of making you at ease, just being in his presence. Then I saw the wedding ring. Its shine reflected in my eyes, nearly blinding me, and I almost choked on my own spit. Not that I was shopping for a man. I had Rose entering the terrible twos, and she was more than enough for my plate. Three years ago seemed so far away, thinking about it now. Carter was now divorced, and playing the field, and I was…well, I was piddling along—still single and oh, so much feeling it.

  There had been a moment many moons ago when I was reaching for a plate from the cabinet and Carter helped me. Our eyes met, and for the tiniest of milliseconds, I thought I saw something in his expression—maybe an attraction? Then he stuck out his tongue and went cross-eyed, and the imaginary moment quickly dissolved. He’s such a goofball. He’s that Labrador puppy that likes to lick everyone’s face. Cuddly one second, and begging to play fetch the next. No wonder he’s so good with kids.

  “Awkward.”

  “Yeah.” I sat on the edge of the bed, holding onto a warm pair of socks. “How am I going to act around him tonight at dinner?”

  “Just promise him some of those little bacon wrapped dogs you make, and he’ll forget anything ever happened. If he hasn’t already.”

  I sighed and stood to pile the clothes I’d just folded back into the basket. “I forgot the appetizers. The best I have is a salad, and Jenson’s tomatoes looked like something you wouldn’t even want to throw at anyone.”

  “That man never has good produce.”

  Just then, my pint-sized baby girl came in the room wearing a dress—the one I had packed to give away to charity. It was two sizes too small for her.

  “Rose Marie, where did you find that dress?” My hands landed on my hips.

  Her big brown eyes looked around the room as she began to walk out backward. “I think it was…I think it was in my closet.”

  “There is no way it was in your closet. Because I distinctly remember putting it in the box by the back door—you know, the one marked ‘charity’?”

  “Mommy, I can’t read.” She threw out her hip, sassy as ever.

  “Well, that box isn’t where I normally keep your clothes, is it?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “So put it back, deary. You’ll catch cold wearing that tiny little thing that I believe you possibly wore two years ago.”

  “Oh, just have her put on a pair of leggings with it, for goodness’ sakes. It’ll be fine.” I saw Liz wink at her.

  Rose looked at me and smiled. It was Sam’s smile. Who could forget a man when you looked at him—in some fashion—every day you looked at your child?

  “Oh fine, but wear some leggings,” I yelled as she darted out of the room like a cat who’d just been spooked.

  “Is she still asking about her dad?” Liz asked in a low tone. “Actually, let me rephrase that—her lying, scoundrel of a father?”

  Yes, I told Liz about Sam. I needed to tell someone. It was during my low points that I needed to talk to someone…tell them the whole sordid details, so they could one day, when I was dangling off a ledge, remind me that he wasn’t worth the call to ask for him back. Not that I wanted him…but maybe I did. Some days I just felt so alone in this parenting thing.

  “When the subject comes up, I ask her if she wants a puppy.”

  Liz stared at me with popping eyes. “Are you serious? You don’t think you have enough to do in your life, that you could potty train some animal, wake up to let them pee, take them on walks? It’d be so much easier to rent a dad for cameo appearances. At least they come potty trained. I’d hope. Hey, I dated a guy who was studying acting. Want me to ask him to come by, play some ball out back, and tuck her in one night? He could spray some gray in his hair, smoke a pipe, and look all distinguished.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course not, Liz. Are you serious?” Sometimes I didn’t know whether she was serious or not. Half the time, it turned out, she was. “And no, I’m not getting a puppy. I’m happy to finally have Rose peeing on her own. I merely distract her with a puppy to take her mind off her dad. It doesn’t help when most of her friends have a full set of parents. I’m afraid she’s getting fed up with my answer that sometimes you’re just born to one—a mommy or a daddy.”

  “Just tell her you had her in vitro and be done with it. It happens.” She shrugged.

  “And how many people do you know that it happened to?”

  She looked around the ceiling of my room, stretching out her chin. “Okay, smarty pants, none,
but you could start a trend. In vitro babies to single moms. I can see it now. Heck, we could search online and there would probably be a support group somewhere for it. Then you could take Rose to meet some of the kids who are still asking where their father is.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Hey guys, am I early?” Carter stood in the doorway of my bedroom, hands on the top of the doorframe, almost swinging from it. I could see a sliver of skin where his shirt was raised.

  I looked at my watch. Dinner wasn’t for another hour. He was early. “I’d say. I don’t even have the bread in the oven.”

  A twinge of me felt misplaced around him now. Last week when I passed him in the halls, I did that smirk thing with my mouth or pretended I needed to see a student in whatever classroom I was standing by. Why did he have to proposition me, anyway? I realize I looked out of place at that BBQ picnic last week when he asked me. Everyone was there with someone else. His date must’ve fallen through at the last minute, and he needed close companionship, at that very moment.

  “What are you ‘no thanking’ Liz for? Did she offer you crack again?” He looked at Liz and pointed. “Young lady, I told you this is a no-drug zone town. Pimp your stuff somewhere else.”

  Liz squinted at him. “For your information, I was giving advice for what Sarah can tell Rose about her deadbeat dad.”

  “Liz!” I raised my voice, tilting my head, as if that was between us.

  “What? I didn’t know…”

  Carter came in and stood next to my dresser, stroking his chin. “Let’s see, you could always tell her…no, that doesn’t sound reputable.” He cocked his head, musing a little deeper. “You could just say…no, that definitely sounds like a lie.” He looked at me, his face crinkled. “Why exactly are you telling her anything? Has she asked?”

  I placed the basket on the floor, and stood, fixing my shirt and pulling at the collar of it. “She does on occasion. Like if she’s watching a cartoon and they have the dad in the scene, or last month when they had a ‘daddy day’ at preschool, and the little girls made tea.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know what the big deal is. I think Mrs. Clemson just wants to see me twist in the wind. She’s not the nicest of teachers there. And she knows very well I’m spouse-challenged.”