She accepted the coffee Dana pushed toward her, taking a careful sip. Dana made excellent coffee. It was strong, but not bitter. Smooth and flavorful.
Dana removed two napkins from the bag and placed an oversized cinnamon roll on each, setting one in front of Sara. Her stomach growled as the smell of frosting and cinnamon and sugar hit her.
“’Bout time you got your appetite back,” Dana commented after eyeing her for a beat. “You were all skin and bones when you got here.” She sniffed, pulling a piece of her roll off and dipping it into her coffee before taking a bite.
“How did you end up in Waupun, Dana?” Sara asked, taking a bite of her roll. The sweet bread was heaven to her taste buds, somehow thick and fluffy at the same time.
“Fourth husband owned this Godforsaken motel,” she said with a grimace.
Sara gave her a surprised look. “You don’t like it? You take such good care of it. The housekeepers do an excellent job. The outside is clean and well-maintained and the flowerbeds are so pretty. It’s a nice place, Dana. Truly.”
Dana sat up straighter at the praise. “Of course it is. As you said, I take good care of it.”
“Where is the fourth husband?” Sara asked, hiding a smile behind her coffee cup.
She snorted. “Don’t know, don’t care. He split, leaving me with this place.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He was a liar and a cheater and I’m glad to be rid of him. Plus, I love this place.”
Sara didn’t point out that Dana had just contradicted herself. It wouldn’t do any good. She was crabby and also refreshing at the same time. Sara thought her placement here, in this town, in this motel, near Dana, was perfect. The ache for Lincoln was there, always, but she was doing okay.
“You’re my date for the fireworks,” Dana announced, finishing off her cinnamon roll.
“Your date?”
“I sit out on the deck and watch them. You can keep me company. Not like you have anything better to do anyway, here without your man like you are.”
Sara stiffened, lowering her coffee cup. “What?”
Dana got to her feet, her knees cracking, and rolled her eyes. “Oh, you. It’s obvious you’re hurting. I know all there is to know, Sara. A look like that in your eyes; it’s from a man. I’ve had it in my eyes many times. You love him,” she stated bluntly.
She looked at the partially eaten cinnamon roll, fingers tightly clenched around the coffee mug. “I do.”
“You love him, yet you’re here. Why?”
“My husband—“
“Is dead,” Dana interrupted, moving to the door. “I’ve kept tabs on you, dear, especially after your parents passed. You always intrigued me. Such a somber young child; not talking much, always observing. You were special, even as a child. And obviously there’s a man out there that feels the same. Some people aren’t lucky enough to find love once, and you’ve found it twice. Remember that.”
***
Who are you? Sara stared at her lightly tanned reflection, waiting for a response that only she could provide. Her brown eyes were brighter than they’d been in recent months, but a hint of sadness could still be deciphered, if one really looked. Sara swiped hair behind her ears and leaned toward the mirror, searching for a glimpse of the woman she’d been two years ago, before the wreck that had splintered her life apart into tiny pieces had occurred.
Sara couldn’t find her. She couldn’t remember who she used to be. That woman was lost, gone, never to be found again. Maybe she wasn’t supposed to be found. Maybe finding herself wasn’t about going back to who she used to be, but instead was about accepting everything and learning to live, not in spite of, but because of, all she’d gone through. Maybe this woman, looking back at her, was the Sara she was meant to be. Scarred in all ways, slightly ruined, imperfect, but alive.
The girl who’d lost her parents and found hope in a man when she’d worried it was all but gone; that wasn’t her. The young woman broken by the loss of a child and repaired in the eyes of her love wasn’t her either. And the woman weak and full of self-hate and regrets; grieving for all she could not change and was unable to live without; that was no longer Sara as well. This was her, whoever she was; this woman staring back at her. Remade, reborn, reconstructed into a woman able to hope and love not in spite of what she’d been through, but because of it.
She turned the light off and left the bathroom, the pull too strong to ignore. Sara scrolled through the saved names on the cell phone, pausing on Cole. Her thumb caressed the name and number, the pang in her heart bittersweet, but not overwhelming as it used to be. She hit Send just to hear his rough voice drawl on the voicemaiclass="underline" “I ain’t here so call Sara. Don’t leave a message. You know I won’t listen to it.”
A smile stretched her lips and Sara let her head fall forward, her hair blanketing the sides of her face. She closed her eyes and memories and scents and touches enveloped her, peace coming with them for the first time. She hadn’t had the heart to disconnect the service to Cole’s phone, but it was something she would do when she returned to Boscobel.
The phone rang, startling her. Sara fumbled not to drop it and stared at the screen. It was Lincoln. She shouldn’t be surprised, since he hadn’t missed a day in the past five weeks since she’d been gone, but she always feared one day there wouldn’t be a phone call from him. Sara was frightened that one day he’d realize it was too much trouble; loving her.
“Hello?” When Lincoln didn’t speak, and she’d been fairly positive he wouldn’t, Sara began, “It’s so beautiful here, Lincoln. The scenery is green, lush, peaceful. You’re probably wondering where here is, aren’t you? About that…I didn’t tell you not because I didn’t want you to follow and I was afraid you would. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid if I did, I’d be the one to leave before I should; I’d be the one to run back to you before I’d found myself. Not that that has happened anyway. The finding me part. I don’t know if I can. Or if that’s what I’m supposed to be doing.
“I mean, I got part of what I wanted. I do feel better. I do feel a peace I didn’t before I left. The rest…I’m finding it as I go. I’m finding…me. I think. I still don’t know who I am or who I’m supposed to be. Maybe I’m not supposed to figure that out and that’s what I had to figure out.” She sighed, rubbing her forehead.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I had to travel all the way to where I did to figure myself or not figure myself out. I don’t know. To get away from everything that reminded me of him, to heal. And I don’t mean you when I say things I needed to get away from. You know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t.
“I want to ask you to wait for me, to keep loving me, to not decide I’m a waste of time, but I don’t feel like I have the place to tell you that. Do I, Lincoln? I can tell what you’re thinking. I mean, even now, when you’re not talking, I can feel your anger. You’re bristling with it, aren’t you? So stubborn. Why have you loved me for so long?” Sara whispered. “I don’t think I’m worthy of it. But I guess it’s not for me to decide who loves me or doesn’t.”
Sara walked to the sliding glass doors and looked out at the pink and orange sunset, placing a hand on the cool glass, touching the sky. “I guess I should admit the obvious: I didn’t find me. I failed in that quest. I came here to find me and found there wasn’t anything to find. The person I used to be; the old Sara, she’s gone. I can’t find what no longer exists. But that’s okay. It has to be.
“It doesn’t hurt as much. I don’t know if it’s because I’m away from it all or if it’s because I’m simply healing. But I can think of him without feeling like my heart is being ripped out. I can think his name. I can say his name. Slowly, painfully, my wounds are closing. I know it won’t take weeks or months to be completely healed. I don’t know if I ever will be. But at least I can breathe without feeling like my insides are being crushed.