Indivisible Line (33 page)

Sarah struggled to hold herself together and think rationally while she boarded the plane. Once seated, she could allow herself to dwell on her misgivings.
 

She was headed back home. It wasn’t on her own terms—destiny had chosen for her. Was she leaving Greg behind for good?

Chapter 23

Seven hours later, Sarah arrived in Fairbanks, exhausted, anxious, and unhappy. The sun’s departing glow lit the edge of the horizon, leaving a dreary cast of muted red. The cold, whipping breeze shot through to her spine while she gripped her jacket closer around her body. She glanced around, noting several passengers braving the cold and waiting for the last scheduled bush plane to arrive. Sarah pulled her cell phone from her pocket, powered up the little gadget, and waited for the announcement of missed calls or voice messages to flash.

Nothing. No calls from Greg.

Her heart sank. Had he gotten her message at all? Maybe he had but, after she left, had decided that she wasn’t worth the trouble. She watched as the plane approached. Mr. V stepped out of the plane once his outbound commuters started unloading, and he headed in Sarah’s direction. He tipped his baseball cap to her, his expression unreadable.

“Glad you came back,” he whispered, mindful of the people around them, most of whom would know any news relating to the tribe.

Sarah felt their eyes on her. Some expressed sympathy without words, and the others glance her way with indifference. This treatment would be something she’d have to get used to now that she was back. A dark cloud settled above them while Mr. V searched her face.

She heaved a long sigh. “I never wanted to leave.” That pretty much summed up her whole dilemma. Leaving had never crossed her mind until circumstances forced her to go.
 

“Let’s get going so you can see your father.” Mr. V gave her shoulders a squeeze before turning around to head back to the plane.

Instead of following, Sarah grabbed his arm. “It’s good to be back.” Contrary to what people might think, Beaver was her home. No matter what had happened to her in the past months—living in a fancy high-rise building, dining in fancy restaurants, and attending a prestigious university included—nothing would change the fact that she belonged here.

The old man nodded in understanding and strode away. Sarah followed him and took the last available seat. Packed like sardines, they departed Fairbanks amid the threatening clouds.

With the noisy motor drowning out any possible chatter among the passengers, Sarah closed her eyes once the short trip commenced. Her mind drifted back to Greg.
 

As the plane taxied to a stop, she straightened her back and pushed thoughts of Greg to the back of her mind once again. She needed to focus on her homecoming and how it would affect her relationship with her father.

“Sarah, your father is home.” Mr. V spoke from behind while she juggled her suitcase and backpack in her hands.

“Why isn’t he in the hospital?” Sarah already knew darn well what the answer was—Ahila was stubborn as hell. His abhorrence for hospitals had to be the reason he was back at home. To make him accept confinement in a hospital, one would have to come up with an argument he couldn’t win. In Sarah’s absence, she imagined how difficult the situation must have been for everyone involved. Now that she was home, she’d talk him into getting the proper treatment from the hospital, while they still had time.

On many occasions in the past, he’d expressed deep animosity toward modern medicine. Despite this, he also believed his tribe deserved the best medical provisions he was able to obtain. Therefore, when Sarah showed an inclination to go into the field of medicine, he’d pushed her to follow her dream.

Mr. V rolled his eyes. “You know how he is. Besides, Dr. Ancheta believes there’s nothing he can do anyway, given your father’s refusal to go under the knife. All he is able to do is give him medication and hope it’ll help.” Mr. V seemed unsure and rolled on the balls of his feet, his hands tucked into his jeans’ pockets.

Upon hearing this news, Sarah’s blood turned icy in her veins, and she had to force her next words from her mouth. “What do you mean he
refused
?” Tears pooled in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

“He needs a heart bypass. He denied consent to be transported to the mainland for surgery.”
 

The statement left Sarah sick to her stomach. Her strides faltered, but Mr. V caught her arm before she stumbled. He held her arm until she managed to stand on her own rubbery legs.
 

“He doesn’t want it?
Why
?” Ahila’s pride, or whatever the reason for his refusal, made her want to give her father an earful, but his precarious condition might not allow her to do so.

“We’ll never know. Your father is a very private man. He gave no explanation, none whatsoever.” Mr. V shook his head and gave her a sympathetic look. “Just hurry home. He’ll be so happy to see you.”

With trepidation in her heart, she walked the mile home in confusion. It was impossible to understand why her father would throw his life away in such a reckless manner. Sarah knew that refusal of treatment would lead to more complications and even death. The latter possibility shattered her already-frayed nerves, and she began crying again. Ahila would be a walking time bomb, ready to go off at any time, and there were no guarantees of a better outcome. She preferred him alive, but he sounded as if he had a death wish. The idea of losing her father made her stomach coil in fear.

When she saw their house in the distance, her footsteps quickened, and she wiped her face free of tears. The lights in the windows burned in the darkness, calling her home.
Oh, Dotson’Sa, please make him understand how much he needs the surgery. Give him a reason to live.

Sarah broke into a run and burst through the front door like a whipping hurricane, intent letting her father know how much she loved him.

“Papa?” Sarah’s hoarse voice echoed in their little house. Dropping her suitcase onto the wooden floor, she raced across the hallway. When she didn’t find him in the living room, she ran for his bedroom, heart thrumming against her ribs. This was the other place he could be in their little house.

Not bothering to knock, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. The jamb rattled against the hinges, startling her father from his reverie. He sat up straighter when he saw her, and his arms opened, beckoning her to walk into his welcoming embrace.

Sarah rushed forward with a sob, and Ahila wrapped his thin arms around her. “You’re home.” His tender voice warmed her and broke her heart into million pieces.

“Papa, how are you?” Sarah sobbed against his chest, just like she had when she’d been a child. How long had it been since they’d held each other this way?
 

“I’m good,
Vichi
’.” With his solemn tone and his arms giving her comfort, Sarah’s tears flowed unchecked. When was the last time he’d called her his daughter in their native tongue? “Sarah, no tears, my daughter. No tears for me.”

“Papa, I . . .” She hiccupped. “I . . . missed you so much. I’m glad you let me come home.”

Pressed hard against his chest, Sarah heard his heartbeat skip at her statement. She looked up to see his weathered face crumple into a sad, weary expression. His eyes glistened when he met her gaze, and she could see fear, shame, and remorse in their depths. But his love and pride shone brighter.
 

“Can you forgive an old fool his mistakes?” A single tear trickled down his leathery skin, and Sarah’s heart ached for him.

“There wasn’t a day that I blamed you for what you did.”
 

Ahila traced his fingers along her cheek and smiled. “What have I done to deserve a daughter like you?” His mouth quivered.
 

Sarah gave him a grateful smile. “You’ve got yourself to blame for who I’ve become. All the talks about loving all living beings, giving ourselves fully and selflessly—does that ring a bell?” She kissed his cheeks, and his lips twitched up into a smile.

“You’re too smart for your own good.”
 

Funny, she’d heard that before. Greg had said the same exact words the day before. She missed him so much already.

Shaking the melancholy threatening to cloud her homecoming, she led her father back to his bed. Now that she was home, she’d try to make each day with him count to make up for her absence. “Lie down and rest. Let’s catch up tomorrow. I don’t want you walking around and tiring yourself. If you need anything, call me.” Sarah lifted the blanket while he climbed into bed and placed it back on top of him.

“I can do things for myself. I’m not an invalid—”

Sarah shot down his mild protest. “No buts. I’m going to be in charge from now on. Remember, you asked for me, and this is what you’re going to get.” She bent down and kissed his forehead, loving his scent of musk and pine.

Before she left, she turned off the little light on his nightstand and said, “I love you, Papa.”

“Thanks for coming home to see me.” Then, in a softer voice, he added, “I love you, too,
Vichi
’.”

I’m going to make him say it louder next time.
Sarah promised herself as she crossed the hallway to her room. Reality hit her as soon as she entered her room, which held so many memories. She was back home.

Sarah went through the motions of unpacking her luggage and got ready for bed. Once she was tucked underneath the covers, she stared at the ceiling for some time, unable to sleep. Greg kept popping into her mind.

Tortured by the memory of his blue eyes staring at her and the delectable taste of his lips, Sarah turned and reached over her nightstand for her cell phone to dial his number again.

“Please answer, please answer.” One ring was all it took before voice mail kicked in again. Her heart sank, and she hung up, not bothering to leave a message. If cell phones weren’t so expensive in Beaver, she would’ve hurled the stupid phone across the room. Feeling her disappointment rising to the surface, she returned the phone on her nightstand after she turned the damned thing off.

Forcing sleep proved impossible, and she lay on the bed, eyes wide open, mind reeling with negative thoughts. Minutes turned to hours, and her restlessness grew. The only sounds she heard were the crickets chirping and Ahila’s steady snore from across the hallway. Sleep came at last in the wee hours of the morning when Sarah’s unhappy thoughts succumbed to her exhaustion and let her rest.

Getting back into the swing of things in Beaver had come naturally to Sarah. She hadn’t even skipped a beat. Although she missed the bustle of the big city, the peace and tranquility of their little town gave her the respite to lick her wounds. She had been gone for a week, and Greg hadn’t even phoned her.

Sarah began to wonder if she’d imagined the last night they’d spent together. Had she made those things up? Greg had said he loved her. Had that been a figment of her imagination, too? Had her brain conjured up those words to rationalize her actions that night? She knew it wasn’t true, but his failure to call her had begun to build up doubt in her head.

“What’s wrong, Sarah?” Ahila’s concerned tone forced her out of her mental torture.

She looked up at him while he lowered himself onto the chair next to her on the porch. “Nothing’s wrong, Papa.” Sarah put down her mug on the small wooden table and rose to her feet. “Let me get you some coffee.”

Ahila reached out and patted her arm. “Sit. I’ll get it later. Tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t tell me it’s nothing.” Though his voice retained the authoritative tone she knew so well, it had lost the firmness and edge. Their conversations were more like a father talking to his daughter, having a normal heart-to-heart talk, than a leader dictating to a tribe member.

Sarah hesitated, picking up her coffee cup. Discussing her situation with her father would be awkward, and speaking about Greg out loud would cement truths she wanted to deny and delay facing. She avoided Ahila’s gaze and pretended to blow the rising steam from her cup.

“It’s the man who called me, right?” By his tone, he sounded as if he already knew the answer.

Sarah closed her eyes and took a long sip of her coffee. She let the warmth trickle down her throat before she nodded. “Yes.”

“Tell me what’s bothering you. Why isn’t he with you?”

The question startled her. Was this the same man who had forbidden her to be with someone other than Trimble?