“How about a movie? What are you in the mood for? Some ’Texas Chainsaw Massacre’?”
She laughed and he grinned and a date had been set.
Sara shook her head, pushing the image away. Only he didn’t fade away. She inhaled raggedly, closing her eyes against the tall form walking toward her. It was a ghost, an illusion. It wasn’t real. He wasn’t really there.
“Sara? What are you doing here?”
She opened her eyes, her racing heart slowing. It was real. But it wasn’t him. Lincoln made his way to her, his features becoming more defined the closer he got. He had on jeans, boots, a red flannel jacket with the hood of a gray sweatshirt sticking out the back of it, and leather work gloves. He pulled his gloves off as he reached her, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans.
“I’m…” Her teeth chattered together, making it almost impossible to form words. She hadn’t realized it was so cold, lost as she’d been in her memories.
“Shit, Sara, how long have you been standing out here?” Lincoln exclaimed as he moved closer, briskly rubbing her arms to bring some life back to them.
“I don’t…know.”
“Come here.” He enfolded her between his arms, his clean smell mixing with the scent of the wood burning stove from the house nestled back in the woods. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
Sara couldn’t speak or move. It felt like a betrayal to him to have his brother’s arms around her. She wanted to pull away, but couldn’t gather the strength to. She felt safe, safer than she had since her world had been destroyed.
“Come on. I’ll drive your car over to the house. What were you thinking, coming out here without a coat or boots or anything?”
“I…wasn’t thinking,” she stuttered, following him to the red Pontiac Grand Prix.
“That much is obvious.” He opened the door for her, shutting it after she was in the car.
“What were you doing?” Sara asked as Lincoln started the car.
“Looks like I was rescuing you from being frozen alive.” He pulled the car onto the road and drove the two miles it took to reach the house he’d grown up in. It was a two-story log-sided cabin, almost disappearing into the trees cocooning it, becoming part of the background. Smoke curled up from the chimney, lights shone through the windows in the gloomy-skied day.
Will the sun ever shine again?
Sara walked up the steps that led to the large deck, nostalgia hitting her. She went still, thinking she heard his laughter on the wind, picturing him standing at the now-covered grill, flipping burgers, a beer in his hand. Sara would have been sitting at the black wrought iron patio set, eyes repeatedly pulled to him as though a magnet connected her to him.
“You okay?” Lincoln asked, watching her, one hand on the doorknob.
She nodded, shifting her gaze from his. This was the house he and Lincoln had been raised in, and after their parents moved to Florida to retire, the house they’d shared as bachelors until she’d come along and changed all that. What if she hadn’t gone for a walk that day? Would he still be alive, living his life with some other woman?
Sara hadn’t been to the house since before the accident. She inhaled deeply, the scent of coffee enveloping her as she stepped inside, the heat of the interior quickly warming her. Her eyes went to the black leather couch to the left, where they’d sit and watch movies. He’d play with her hair, his arm around her, his lips smiling against her cheek as he kissed her.
“Coffee?”
She blinked at Lincoln. He’d removed his jacket and hat and stood by the coffeemaker in the kitchen area to the right. He looked back expectantly. His features changed, altered, and she was staring at her husband. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, and when she opened them, he was Lincoln again.
“Yes. Please.”
“I was walking.”
She frowned at him. He set a mug of coffee on the black marble countertop and pulled out a barstool across from her. Sara did the same, sitting and wrapping her frozen fingers around the hot cup.
“In the woods. I was walking. I didn’t have much to do today for work with the snow and all, so I went for a walk. Some days are great, others kind of get to me. Today is one of the latter days. I thought some fresh air might help clear my head.”
“Did it?”
Lincoln gave a short bark of laughter. “Nah.”
“What does help?” Sara sipped her coffee, hoping he had some magic answer that she could try. She knew she was wishing for things that could never be before he even answered. There was no quick fix; there was no magic solution to eradicate the guilt and sorrow she carried around.
He tapped the fingers of one hand on the counter. “You know, I don’t really know. If I’m kept busy I don’t dwell on things too much. I guess work helps.”
Mason’s demand that she work on her art flashed through her mind. She didn’t know how to do that without being overwhelmed by the past. How would that be helpful? It wouldn’t. His next visit was only a few days away. She sighed, rubbing her forehead.