Dakota Love (39 page)

“I wish Karla were here.” Sarah tried to look around Mark.

Mark’s heart sank. He wanted her to wish for his help. Still unclear how she’d interpreted his earlier response as pity, he cleared his throat. “Sarah, I’m sorry I made you angry today. I only have your best interest at heart.”

Sarah allowed him to lead her to her door.

“My backpack.” She tried to turn, but his firm grasp didn’t allow it.

“I placed it just inside the door.”

She shook her head and reached for the doorknob. “You can let go of me now.”

Mark released her physically, but emotionally he held on. “Sarah, I—”

“Enough.” She held up her hand. “I thought you of all people would understand. After all, you told me that your mother led a full life with MS, just like I’m trying to do. Yet you are really like everyone else, full of pity for poor, sick Sarah.” She twisted the knob and stepped through the threshold.

“Sarah, being overinvolved and living a full life are two different things.” Mark took a step toward the door. Sarah’s palm thumped into his chest.

“I’ll be fine until Karla gets here. I thought you cared for me, but now I realize you just took pity on me. Have a nice life. Good-bye, Mark.”

Sarah hurled her words at him like a fast-pitched softball. Dazed and confused, Mark took a step back just before the door banged shut.

T
he insistent rumble of Sarah’s stomach forced her to hang up her office phone after being on hold with a carpet warehouse employee while he checked the order mix-up for the new lessee’s carpeting. Her boss wanted the issue resolved as soon as possible, but she’d have to call back later. She needed to take her medicine and eat lunch.

Sarah removed her Bible from her bag and headed back into the break room. She’d called in sick yesterday and gone to her MS doctor. The steroid shot she received at her appointment worked wonders for her leg. If she kept her stride slow, she managed her normal gait. Her arm was back to what she referred to as “MS normal.” She sighed.

How had she been so wrong about Mark? Why did everyone else think they knew what was best for her? She was glad that Karla had insisted on Sarah’s sleeping in and taking short naps for the remainder of the weekend, including Sunday, even though Sarah hated missing church. But the relaxing weekend and sick day on Monday had left her feeling refreshed and almost pain-free, not to mention clearheaded.

She stuck leftover Chinese in the microwave and uncapped her water bottle. Once her lunch was heated, she settled in at the table and opened her Bible. As leader of the summer Bible class, she’d chosen to study the book of Job, mostly for the same reason she wanted a quilt made from the Job’s Tears pattern—a reminder that Job accepted his fate. He knew how to take the good with the bad, just like she accepted her MS diagnosis and all the changes that came with it.

“I missed you yesterday. What are you up to?” Ashley breezed past her to the refrigerator.

“Getting the lesson ready for my Wednesday morning Bible study.” Sarah turned in her chair as Ashley grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and took a bite.

She walked over and stood behind Sarah. “You’re studying Job. I always felt so sorry for him, the way the devil used him as a guinea pig. He endured all the bad stuff the devil inflicted him with, yet he still trusted God. That’s the kind of faith we all need.”

Sarah smiled, knowing she did have the faith of Job, trusting God, and He’d given her all these wonderful activities to take her mind off her disease.

“How’d the MS walk go?” Ashley planted herself on the folding chair opposite Sarah.

The smile faded from Sarah’s face as the feelings of helpless humiliation rushed back to her. It wasn’t bad enough that she fell in front of everyone, but then she gave in to her disappointment and weakness, thinking Mark would understand. But instead of consolation she received pity.

“Sarah?” Ashley’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Well…” Sarah sighed then turned in her chair and lifted her crop pants over her knee. “I fell about a block into the walk, so that’s as far as I got.”

“What? What happened? Did you trip?” Ashley leaned forward in her chair to study Sarah’s injuries.

Ashley’s concern-filled questions brought hot tears of relief to Sarah’s eyes. If anyone would understand, she knew that it’d be Ashley. She actually cared about Sarah’s well-being. “My MS symptoms tripped me up.”

“I see.” Ashley leaned back into her chair.

Her voice lost its previous concern. “Were you doing too much again? I know you put in long, stressful hours last week. I overheard your boss chewing you out about going over budget on the remodel project.” She lifted her eyebrows.

Sarah shrugged. “It was just part of my job.” It seemed that was really what the job was about, taking complaints from the renters, her boss, and now the construction crew. She missed the days that people were happy to see her bring a package through the door.

“I’m no doctor, but Sarah, I think you need to scale back. I think you should tell your boss that the construction project is just too much for you to handle.”

“I can’t do that!” Sarah’s voice rose with each word. “I’ll get fired.” Why did everyone think she didn’t need to earn a living?

“Well, there are many ways to make a living.”

Had Ashley read her mind?

“Don’t look at me like that.” Ashley laughed. “Take me, for example. I’m a freelance writer and paralegal. Surely you have other options than managing this building.”

Young, hopeful, and optimistic—qualities in Ashley that Sarah admired. Yet they didn’t really apply to a woman pushing forty who’d been diagnosed with MS. She’d taken the first job offered to her because she feared she’d have trouble getting hired at her age with an illness.

“Don’t be such a skeptic.” Ashley laughed harder. “I’m making it my goal to help find a better-suited job for you. One with way less stress. Let’s see. Maybe a preschool teacher?”

Ashley continued to list obscure professions until Sarah finally laughed. “Okay, okay, if you find any of those job openings, I’ll apply.”

“Good.” Ashley threw her apple core into the waste can beside the wall. “How’s it going with Mark?”

Sarah’s shoulders sagged.

“I see.” Ashley touched Sarah’s arm. “What happened?”

A flicker of anger still burned in Sarah at his reaction to her tears. However, it was no longer directed at Mark and his pity, but herself. Over the course of the weekend, she decided that, once again, she’d been a poor judge of a man’s intentions.

“It seems I misread Mark’s interest in me. He only feels pity for me, not love.”

Ashley’s eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“As sure as I am that I have multiple sclerosis.”

Jitters shook her insides as soon as Sarah pulled into the parking lot beside the quilt shop for her last class. She’d tried to arrive as close to class time as possible. She didn’t want to see Mark.

If only she could race through the store to the workroom, but she couldn’t find her tote bag with the few completed Job’s Tears quilt blocks and the remaining supplies to make a wall quilt. The last time she remembered seeing it was the day she helped Mark in the store.

So although she didn’t want to see or talk to Mark, she might be forced to. Perhaps she’d get lucky and Terri would be working.

From her car, Sarah tried to peer into the plate glass window to catch a glimpse of the salesperson on the floor. She was familiar enough with the routine of the store to know that someone would be at his or her dinner break.

Sarah fumbled around in her car, picking up trash and straightening floor mats for a few minutes until she saw Caroline arrive. That was when it occurred to her that she wouldn’t be staying even if her tote was there.

She’d promised Caroline last week that she’d be caught up to the class with all the blocks completed and sewn into a top, ready to quilt. She didn’t even have enough blocks completed to make a table runner. For a moment she considered leaving and cutting her losses. Instead she drew a deep breath and stepped out of her car.

Nervous apprehension knotted her stomach with each step closer to the door. She wanted to see Mark, yet she didn’t. Over the weekend her feelings flip-flopped between apologizing to him for closing the door in his face or thanking him for the assistance he gave her, even though it came with a lecture. She’d been flabbergasted when Karla suggested she call him on Sunday evening to let him know that she was feeling better. In the end she decided that it could wait until tonight. And now she hoped to avoid him altogether.

The jangle of the bell seemed amplified as she braced for Mark’s normal greeting to customers. However, it was a woman’s voice who called, “Be right with you!”

Terri. Sarah’s heart wrenched. Tears of disappointment threatened her eyes. She swiped at the dampness with her fingertips. What on earth was that all about? Yet she knew. She’d expected Mark.

Sarah waited by the cash register and watched Terri approach from the clearance section of the store.

“Hi, Sarah. Did you need something before class starts?” Terri eyed the clock above the door.

“I can’t seem to find my tote bag with my class project. I remembered having it with me the day I helped Mark.” Sarah’s voice cracked as she said his name. She cleared her throat. “The day I helped out at the store.”

“I know Mark really appreciated your help those two days. We get so many compliments on that patriotic display. I think your tote is in the back room, right where you left it.”

As Sarah opened her mouth to tell Terri that she’d never made it as far as the back room, the store’s front door opened. Sarah’s heart betrayed her as it skipped a beat in hope that Mark would come through the door. The overwhelming disappointment threatened her eyes again as the two elderly ladies returned Terri’s greeting.

“I can’t believe six weeks have passed. Can you?” The friendlier of the two ladies looked at Sarah and motioned for her to join them walking back to the class.

“Um…no.” Sarah guessed she should go back and see if her bag was on the table. She wondered if Caroline would allow her to sit and sew a block while the others learned to start quilting their project. If not, she’d make her apologies to Caroline and the class, and leave.

Sadly, Karla was three for three. Sarah’s job wasn’t right for her. The quilt class wasn’t right for her. And Mark wasn’t right for her. She wouldn’t be in this situation if she hadn’t been inflicted with MS. Self-pity began to weave its way through her thoughts.

Sarah allowed the elderly women to walk into the workroom first. Caroline instructed the other two classmates on how to pin the project together for quilting. Sarah’s eyes rested on her tote on the table beside the sewing machine she used. The memory of Mark’s demonstrating the machine tugged at her heart. A phantom feeling warmed her skin where his hand had cupped hers.

She might have told herself that she didn’t want to see Mark tonight, but she did. She sighed as she picked up her tote, ready to make apologies to everyone in the room. The heaviness surprised her, and then she noted the girth of the bag. Slowly she sat down and pulled the contents from the bag.

“Ouch.” She flinched as her finger met a straight pin holding the back fabric and batting to the quilt top.

“Wow, Sarah, you were busy this week. Hold your project up for the class to see.” Caroline clapped her hands together, as if her voice didn’t hold enough surprise.

Confused, Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think this is my project.” Yet the fabric did match the color scheme she’d chosen for her Job’s Tears quilt. Carefully, she unfolded the lumpy square.

“It’s beautiful,” the young girl exclaimed.

“Yes, it is.” Caroline lifted a corner and ran her hand over it then looked up at Sarah with a twinkle in her eye. “I was so surprised when Mark called and asked me to bring a hand-quilting hoop for you tonight since he’d just sold the last one he had in inventory.”

“Puts mine to shame.” One of the elderly ladies shook her head.

“I…” Sarah looked around the room at the class. “I didn’t make this quilt. There must be some mistake.” She laid the quilt on the table and smoothed her fingers over it.

Caroline came back with a large wooden hoop. “Isn’t this your block?” Caroline pointed to a block that’s pattern was misshapen. “And this one.”

“Yes, but the rest…” Sarah’s voice faded. She looked at Caroline, who wore a mischievous grin. “Did you finish my quilt top for me?”

Caroline’s laughed echoed around the room. “No, I didn’t.” She winked at Sarah. “Mark must have little elves that come into the quilt store at night, like in the shoemaker story.”

Sarah wrinkled her brow in confusion as she took the offered hoop.

Caroline stood close and whispered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘little elf.’ Maybe I should have said ‘a handsome elf.’ ” When Sarah looked her way, Caroline smiled wide and put her index finger over her lips to shush the conversation.

“I’ll get you started with the running stitch.” Caroline pushed the needle in and out of the fabric several times. “I’d follow the seam line if I were you.” Caroline ran her finger along where she thought Sarah should hand quilt. “You won’t get your project hand quilted tonight, but I’ll make arrangements to meet you here and show you how to finish the raw edges when you have your project quilted.” Caroline started to walk away then turned. “There’s no expiration on that offer, so don’t feel rushed.”