The Fragile Things, page 3
Beth chewed her lip. “I had to practically twist Hayley’s arm.”
“Well, they’re at that age,” Sarah reassured.
“I know but. . .”
“Well, at least, she’s on board with it now, right?”
“At her counselor’s suggestion—well, it was more like a mandate.”
Sarah shot a glance to where the girls stood. All the more, Sarah resolved to support the woman whose wayward child underwent a lot of struggling this past year. Hayley was around Emily’s age—about a year older, and they shared some commonalities that kept them friendly, including an equal disdain for science class. Sarah recalled the latest issue involving Beth’s daughter and once listened as a teary-eyed Beth shared the story about the red nail polish that, apparently, Hayley used to feign suicide. Sarah shuddered as Beth told the story, and deep in her heart, she winced that a mother would be forced to go through the mental anguish of such a thing as sending her own daughter to juvenile hall.
“Oh, Beth.” Sarah shook her head.
“Yep, poured it out the bottom of the door. All I could think of was that she’d sliced her wrists. . .can you imagine?”
Sarah’s skin crawled at the image of fire engine red nail polish dripping off the white marble threshold of the bathroom. Poor Hayley. Poor Beth. Hopefully, the fellowship of school friends, coupled with fresh air and healthy activities during the week-long camp away from home, would be a blessing to Hayley and lend some order to her life. In the sporting arena of coaches and scrimmages, the girls would be kept busy with a full schedule. Learning the concepts of team work and competition would, hopefully, segue into applying the same concepts to broader challenges of life. Sarah would be adding Hayley to her prayers—if anything, to the top of the list.
In the distance, a yellow bus rounded the curve to the north driveway. Sarah glanced back at the girls. Her heart overflowed with pride. With pale translucent skin and auburn hair, her daughter appeared no less perfect to Sarah than an artist’s figurine. Pure, innocent. The girl’s budding curves in her petite figure mimicked Sarah’s own at fifteen. How blessed she felt to have a healthy, happy daughter.
“Have a good time!” Sarah called. She wanted to shout, I love you and give her a hug but thought better not to embarrass her daughter. Better to let the apron strings loosen without knotting them up again. A bittersweet sensation tore through her. Cutting the apron strings somehow also cut into her heart as she watched the yellow bus pull out and disappear down the road.
Chapter Five
Nick Durham struggled to get out of bed. Stretched out in shorts and a T-shirt, he reached first for the pack of cigarettes lying on his bedside table. While about to light one, his thoughts turned to Sarah—again—and her words echoed in his head. Those cigarettes are going to kill you one day. She’d been on his mind since the day she ended thing between them. His relationship with Sarah Harding ended over two months ago, and it left him reeling ever since. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to move on. In haste, he lit the cigarette. To hell with her. He inhaled deeply and soon began coughing. Bolting upright, he reached for the half-empty water bottle and gulped the contents down to stop the choking sensation. When the coughing stopped, he smashed the burning cigarette into the ashtray to snuff it out, and then grabbed the pack of remaining cigarettes and threw it across the room.
****
“Here’s the case reports you needed,” said Ginny Anderson, the precinct’s administrative assistant. “Oh, and there’s a 10–12 in the lobby. . .has a question for an officer. Apparently, no one else can help her.
Nick blindly stared at something on his desk.
“Nick?”
He looked up.
“There’s a 10–12 in the lobby with a problem. By the way, what’s your problem? You haven’t been yourself in weeks.”
Nick ran his hand through his hair. “Not a damn thing. . .nothing.”
“Could’ve fooled me, Anyway, you gonna take it, or should I tell her no one is available right now?”
He blew out a breath. “I’ll take it.”
Ginny laid the papers in his in-box. “Got more where these came from. The Chief asked for you to review them before they get filed.”
“Sure, fine,” Nick mumbled to himself.
“You sure you’re okay, honey?” she asked.
Nick didn’t know what to tell her. Even if he knew where to begin, having to admit to being dumped wasn’t something he wished to share—especially, to a woman. Truth be told, his heart felt heavy as granite these days. Breaking up with women became water under the bridge for him in the past with others. He’d hurt for a while, and then he bounced back. This break-up was different. No, his secret feelings toward Sarah Harding would remain private.
“Yep, I’m good,” he said, rifling through his in-box. His mind wandered again. Who knew for how long he’d be able to be without her? Would his heart be permanently broken or just remain chafed until he met someone else? Only time would tell. Meantime, he poured himself into his menial work. It would distract him for a while but not for long. This woman forged a permanent mark in his heart and branded it with an invisible kiss. There would never be another Sarah Harding in his life no matter how long he searched. While his job as a cop was dangerous, his love life could be even more so. His heart was never more on the line than right now.
Chapter Six
Sarah stepped into the Management office where the air conditioning blew at full blast. Cathy, the office secretary, sat typing at her computer.
“Morning, Cathy.”
“G’morning.” The elderly woman glanced up at Sarah.
Sarah let out an audible sigh and peered over the top of the gray-haired woman’s head to the resident manager’s office door. “Is Mr. Kramer in by any chance?”
Cathy paused from typing and looked up. “I’m pretty sure he hasn’t left yet.” She held up her index finger. “Let me check.” She extended her arm toward one of the chairs lining the wall across from her desk. “Have a seat.” On her way toward his office, she paused and turned. “Forgive me for being too pointed, dear,”—she pulled off her glasses—“are you okay? You look—well, you don’t look your usual pretty self today.”
Sarah blew out a breath. “Been better, thanks.” As their eyes met, Sarah’s reticence dissolved, like a pin had been stuck in her and the truth about the robbery slowly slipped through, waning under the pressure of the woman’s sympathetic stare. “My apartment was ransacked,” Sarah let out under her breath. Saying the words out loud was like a few heavy rocks in the load on her back fell away. Though she told practically every detail to her friend Cindy, sharing the info with Cathy felt as though the secret was really coming to light and no longer something that needed to be hidden.
“Oh, no! Good Lord. That’s awful.”
“Yeah, it was pretty shocking.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure it was.”
“I left a voice message the night it happened—Friday.”
“You did? Oh, I’m so sorry. I was just about to check the messages right after this emergency that came up. Anyway, I’m terribly sorry that I didn’t get to it before you came in, Sarah. This is terrible to hear.”
“Oh, no worries, Cathy. I’m dealing with it.”
Cathy raised her index finger. “Hold on a second,” she said and went to the back of the office.
As Sarah waited, her mind flew back to that awful night and her nerves tightened. The incident still had her rattled. Just thinking back on the odd feeling that came over her as she entered her unlocked apartment sent a shiver through her. Just then, Cathy came back around to her desk.
“Mr. Kramer can see you now, dear.” Her eyes held a measure of sympathy.
“Thanks, Cathy,” Sarah said and headed for the resident manager’s office.
“I’m very sorry that this happened, Sarah. It’s quite disheartening, I’m sure.” Mr. Kramer eyed her with fatherly concern from behind his desk. “I must say it’s the first robbery we’ve had, at least since I’ve been manager here.” His expression bore a sober commiseration, reminding her of a forlorn dog as the creases between his eyes deepened. “We’ll get your lock changed as soon as possible.” He slapped his hands together over the desk top. “In fact, I’m going to handle it right now.” He picked up the phone receiver. “Should be done later this afternoon. If all goes well, you can pick up your new keys from Cathy by 5 o’clock.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kramer.” Sarah forced a weak smile as she stood to leave.
“You bet’cha,” he said with a decided nod.
Sarah’s heart lifted as she left the management office. She felt lighter knowing that Mr. Kramer would take swift action to remedy the situation.
Chapter Seven
Sarah stood in the lobby waiting for the mailman to finish stuffing the rows of boxes in the mail room. From where she stood, it didn’t look like much of anything important was inside the long narrow compartment. Aside from junk mail circulars and flyers, the only thing she found worth keeping was a New Homes real estate brochure and a bill. As she turned to leave, her neighbor, Winny Sterns, hobbled across the marble-floored lobby toward the mailroom.
“Oh, there you are. Sarah. Are y-you alright? I heard about someone trying to break into your apartment!” The pace from Winny’s palsied speech was somewhat slow, but her mind remained as sharp as they come. “Is this true?”
“Oh,”—Sarah made a face—“thanks, Winny,” she replied with a nod. News travels fast around here.
“I’m so sorry to hear about this.”
“Yes, but we’re okay.” Sarah wasn’t going to let on about the actual details of the robbery. For all anyone knew, it was just an attempted break-in or a minor one—at worst case, one with nothing much stolen. That was the story Sarah stuck with so as to not burden any of the residents unnecessarily, especially Winny. The poor woman bore enough concerns as it was than to bear Sarah’s, too, in light of John Sterns, Winny’s caretaker, who acted more like a disciplinarian than a brother.
“Must’ve been awful.”
Sarah nodded. “A bit much, yeah, but we’ll be okay.”
“How is Emily?”
“Em is fine. She’s at hockey camp for the week,” Sarah explained. “Up in Bethlehem.”
“That’s good”—she nodded—“I’m glad. This world. . .I dunno.”
“And how are you?” Sarah asked, changing the subject.
“Getting by, I guess.” She pointed to her cane. “Wish I didn’t need this, but what’s an old woman gonna do, right?” She mocked a laugh.
“Oh, Winny, you’re definitely not old!”
“Compared to you,” she said. “So, you’re moving?” the woman asked with a frown, as she pointed to the New Homes brochure in Sarah’s hand.
“Well, I’m not sure. Right now, it’s just an idea. I may not be able to afford to move right now.”
Winny’s eyes softened. “I hope you don’t move, Sarah. You’re one of the bright spots in this whole building.”
Sarah smiled. “Aw, you’re so sweet, Winny, but we’ll see. I’m still sorting out my fund situation. I’m having some financial concerns. So, no, it’s not a done deal yet, Win. But I won’t forget you if I do move. I’ll keep in touch. You can be sure of that.” Sarah gave Winny’s shoulder a gentle squeeze to drive home the point.
“So, you’ll give me your address when you move?”
“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Sarah witnessed the tears in the woman’s eyes. “Now, please don’t cry, Winny. You’re going to make me cry.” Sarah offered a feigned chuckle to help lighten the situation. “Besides, I haven’t moved yet.”
“Oh, I don’t like change. . .”
“Aw, listen. . .I know”—Sarah put her arm around the woman’s shoulder—“nobody does, but you’ll be okay.”
Sarah walked with Winny to the mailroom and chatted with her while the woman retrieved the contents of her mail box. Then she escorted her to the waiting elevator and entered. When the elevator arrived at the fourth floor and they stepped out to walk down the hall, Winny’s brother, John, stood outside his apartment door with his arms crossed over his chest like a disgruntled sentry. He bore an icy stare.
“Hey, John,” Sarah said, keeping her tone upbeat and hoping to counter the man’s defensive posture. “So sorry to have kept your dear sister so long. We’ve been chatting downstairs,” Sarah offered, hoping to appease his stone-like demeanor. His features looked carved by a chisel.
“Yeah, I figured.” His voice, dismissive. He cast his gaze on his sister hobbling up behind Sarah as they came down the hallway. “C’mon, Winny. Doctor’s appointment at 1 o’clock,” he called with a beckoning wave.”
Winny nudged her cane forward and began to head to the door. “Oh, yes, I almost forgot.”
“I’m sorry, John, if I held her up,” Sarah repeated. She reached out to support her friend’s awkward gait as she double-timed her steps.
He stood stoic with his hands now placed on his hips. As the poor woman made her way along, John held a steely stare that reeked of disdain. Sarah couldn’t figure out whether his attitude was directed toward her or his sister. Either way, his vibe cut through her like a knife.
Chapter Eight
“Hey, Uncle Harry, that was too generous of you!” Sarah gushed over the phone. “I just noticed the filet mignon in the freezer yesterday. You’re so sweet to give it to us.”
“Glad to do it, honey, and sorry I missed y’all.”
“Oh, we would have loved to have seen you.”
“Well, me, too. That’s why I came over.” He chuckled.
“I’m so sorry our timing isn’t better.” She glanced at the clock, hoping this wouldn’t be one of her uncle’s long phone calls. God love him, the man could talk. “So, when did you stop by?”
“Well, uh. . .let’s see. . .I believe, Friday. Yep. Stopped by right after closing the shop. When you didn’t answer the door, I just let myself in and put the meat in your freezer.”
A chill ran through her. The day of the robbery? It was only then that she realized she’d once given Uncle Harry a key. So, another person possessed the key to her apartment in addition to Nick and the management office. Sarah now added her own godfather to the list of potential intruders and possibly the one to have taken the missing items of her inheritance. Fist Nick, and now Uncle Harry? No way. The thought was ludicrous. She hated herself for thinking that way.
“It was weird though. When I got up to your floor, there was some kind of commotion in the hall.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, some yelling. . . someone cryin’ something awful. . . a German Shepherd. . .the whole works. Like something out of a movie.”
Sarah’s mind raced trying to put the puzzle together. What really happened and who had been involved? It could have been just about anyone, although her neighbor, Beth, came to mind because they own a German Shepherd. Beth’s daughter, Hayley, was no stranger to drug issues, Beth quietly let on to Sarah one day last year. Beth had a lot on her plate and bore the burden of raising Hayley alone most of the time while Tim, her husband, was away on business. Sarah thanked God that her own daughter, thus far, had been immune to those sorts of problems. Maybe there had been some sort of trouble with Hayley?
“And just when I was leaving, the dog came barreling down the hall,” Harry continued. “Darn near ran me over. Got so unnerved by it, I don’t remember if I even locked the door behind me. And I accidentally dropped the key you gave me, I think, because now I can’t find it. Looked everywhere. I’m so sorry, honey. I searched all around for it. I think it bounced on the threshold and must have slipped back under your door is all I could figure.”
Struck again by the memory of the break-in, Sarah’s stomach tightened. Certainly, Uncle Harry wouldn’t be on the radar as far as stealing from her. He wouldn’t even take a free lunch and bore the responsibilities of a father figure to her after her beloved husband died, keeping her company. . .taking her and Emily for afternoon drives to the country. . .having them over to his house where he prepared his special southern style spare ribs the way only he could do. No, Uncle Harry wouldn’t hurt a fly. They didn’t come any more generous than Harry Fields.
Sarah pictured the key clanging on the black granite slab at the door’s threshold and taking an awkward bounce. So, where was the key now?
“I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.” His voice waned in regret.
“It’s okay, Uncle Harry. Not a problem,” she said, hoping to assuage the man’s guilt in losing her key. Inwardly, the situation left her puzzled as she hadn’t seen a key anywhere near the door. Though arriving home that evening, exhausted from the day’s shopping and errands, a loose key lying on the floor at the entry way would still be noticed; it would attract anyone’s attention. So, that explains why the door was unlocked. But where was the key?
Chapter Nine
Emily sat cross-legged on the bench watching the field hockey scrimmage. In the 90-degree heat, beads of perspiration ran down her face and neck as though she just showered. After alternating the half-back position with Taylor Holden, the coach pulled Emily off the field for a break. During the time-out, she gulped as much water as she could, and even then, it barely quenched her thirst. Her clothes practically melted into her skin. She readjusted her headband that was wet enough practically to wring out and longed to get back into the game—or dive into the nearby pool. She glanced over at her friend, Hayley, who sat next to her on the bench. Hayley’s face shone red as a beet after coming off the field from her goalie position.
