The Promise of Change

Chapter 19



The wheels of the jet touched down on the runway, startling Sarah. She didn’t even remember the flight attendant announcing their initial approach into Jacksonville. This had been the longest flight she’d ever experienced, and the eight and a half hour flight-time and five hour time difference had nothing to do with it.

After spending the last day and a half crying, vacillating between anger, shame, heartbreak and remorse, she was emotionally and physically drained.

Angry at herself for getting into this situation. Ashamed that she’d slept with a man with whom she should have known an ongoing relationship was nearly impossible, the tabloid photo broadcasting her indiscretion to the world like some sort of sick joke.

Heartbroken, with only herself to blame this time. But mostly she was remorseful for having hurt Alex the way she did, and it was clear from the look on his face that she had hurt him. Let him down.

The drive back to the inn had been the most awkward experience of her life. Thinking the tabloids might be camped out at the inn, Alex convinced Robert to drive her to Trevor’s, who would then take her to the inn via a back way. As it turned out, it appeared to be all quiet on that front.

Surprisingly, Robert had apologized to Sarah for his crude remark, and even tried to console her in his stiff-upper lip manner. Under any other circumstances, she might have found his feeble attempts endearing, but she couldn’t get past the pain. Her heart was in tatters. Again.

The loss of Alex was only half of it.

Lady Clara’s goodbye had almost been more difficult than Alex’s. She’d been tender and yet subdued, trying to convince Sarah to stay at Rutherford, but Sarah refused. Postponing the inevitable would only make it worse. And it was inevitable. She saw no other alternative. She was not cut out for life center stage.

Alex had argued and cajoled, ranted and pleaded, finally giving in with the resignation of a patient who’s been given bad news, his face wearing the same sad, shocked expression as that same unfortunate patient.

But it was the memory of their last kiss that would never leave her. Filled with yearning, anger, sadness, regret, and loss. Whose emotions were whose, she couldn’t say.

Her eyes welled up. She had to stop thinking about it. It was going to be hard enough to convince Ann and Becca that her red swollen eyes and lack of enthusiasm were from jetlag.

They waited for her at the end of the concourse with broad smiles on their faces. Ann bounced up and down like an eager child. This at least brought a tremulous smile to her face. As soon as she cleared the security barrier, Ann ran over and gave her a big hug and kiss. Becca followed more sedately, but hugged her with just as much affection.

“So, how was your trip? Did you have a great time? Did you take lots of pictures? Did you meet interesting people?” Ann’s continuous stream of questions didn’t allow for a response.

“Ann, give her a minute to answer . . .” Becca chided.

“Oh, sorry. I just can’t wait to hear.”

Sarah had missed them both: Ann’s bubbly personality and her sweet, Southern accent; Becca’s sound advice and steadying influence. But she wasn’t ready to talk about the trip. Maybe if she stuck with safe subjects, like the university, the students, and the classes . . .

“You both were right. Oxford University was a wonderful experience. I met smart, engaging people, and immersed myself in Jane Austen.” That should be safe enough. As they walked to baggage claim, she proceeded to tell them a little about the campus, her dorm room, and her classmates.

They stepped out into the oppressive heat of a Florida summer, the weight of the atmosphere as overbearing as her misery. Sarah hoped if she stuck to her friendship with Lady Clara, an only slightly less painful topic, she would have a wealth of anecdotes that would keep them entertained for the duration of the drive home.

Ann was very impressed that Sarah could count a “real-live Earl’s daughter” among her friends. Sarah didn’t bother to clarify that Lady Clara was a Countess in her own right. Ann proved an unwitting ally in prolonging Sarah’s tales of Lady Clara by asking lots of questions about her house, whether she’s met the Queen, and how the whole English title system worked.

“Did you have to curtsy in her presence?” Ann asked in awe.

“No.” Sarah couldn’t refrain from laughing. “She’s not royalty.”

“Well, I didn’t know.” Ann said with chagrin. “I probably would have curtseyed . . .”

“And Lady Clara would no doubt have been charmed,” Sarah said, reaching into the backseat to squeeze her hand.

Ann and Becca helped her get the luggage in the house.

“The mail is on your desk. You’ll also be happy to see that your plants survived in your absence,” Ann said, indicating the still-healthy plants in her study, “and that the backyard birds didn’t starve.”

“Thanks Ann. I really appreciate it. Which reminds me, I have gifts for you both, but they’re buried in my luggage somewhere . . .”

“You’re such a giver. That’s why we like giving to you in return,” Ann said, with feeling.

Before Ann could return to her interrogation about the trip, Becca said, “You must be exhausted. We’ll let you get unpacked. Get some rest,” she finished, giving Sarah another hug. Ann followed suit, leaving her alone with her broken heart.

Sarah looked around her house. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed it. Tomorrow was Monday. Her telephone interview with Harper Legal Consultants was at two, giving her less than a day to rest and catch up on things, before circling back to the more pressing matter of her unemployment.

Last week had been a wonderful fantasy . . . well, up until Friday night . . . but it was time to close that door and come back down to reality. Return to being sensible Sarah. She’d get a job, put her nonsensical past behavior behind her, bury her ridiculous dreams for the future, and get over Alex. In that order.