Authors: Deanna Lynn Sletten
Sandy stopped there, thinking about what happened next. Instead of driving her home, he had pulled down that dark neighborhood road and started grabbing at her. When she resisted, he grew angry. "Hey, what's wrong with you," he'd yelled. "You do it with every other guy." This had only made her angrier, and as she tried to fight him off, he hit her in the face. Desperately wanting to get out, she had grabbed for the door handle, and the door swung open. He'd pushed her out the door, and she fell onto the pavement, scrapping her hand and her knee. "Stupid bitch!" he'd yelled as he slammed the door shut and spun out, leaving her all alone on the dark street.
Annie interrupted her thoughts. "Is he the one who hit you?"
Sandy nodded.
"We should call the police. It's obvious this guy tried to rape you. They should know about this."
"No." Sandy said vehemently. "No. I got away. That's all that matters. My dad can never know this happened." The tears spilled again down her cheeks. "He can't know that I'm like this. Please, Annie. Don't let my dad find out. He's been hurt enough."
"Oh, Sandy." Annie reached out and hugged her and was surprised when the girl let her. "Your dad loves you no matter what. You should know that by now."
Sandy began sobbing again, and Annie held her, trying to soothe her as best she knew how.
"Why, Sandy? Why do you do this? Why do you treat yourself this way? You're such a pretty girl. You're smart and talented, and you have a family who loves you. It would break your mother's heart to see you so hurt."
Sandy pulled away and stared hard at Annie through her tears. She stared into the blue-green eyes that were so much like her own mother's had been. "What do you know about it?" she spat out. "Just because you're sleeping with my dad doesn't mean you know anything about me or my mother. My mother is probably happy to see me suffer. I deserve it."
"How can you say that? Your mother loved you very much."
Sandy shook her head. "How could she love me?" She looked up at Annie with sad, grief-stricken eyes. "Do you know what I said to my mom just hours before she died? Do you know the very last thing I said? I told her I hated her. I hated her! Just because she wouldn't let me have my way. That was the last thing my mother ever heard me say to her. How am I supposed to live, knowing the last thing my mom heard from me was I hate you?"
Annie sat back in silence, her own eyes threatening to fill with tears. This poor girl, living with this guilt for so many years. She sat quietly, searching for the right words, then she gently placed her hand on Sandy's shoulder. "I'm sure your mother knew you didn't mean it. You were a teenager. Teenagers say things all the time that they don't mean. Believe me. She knew you didn't really hate her."
Sandy continued crying while Annie sat with her. When she had no more tears to shed, Annie led her to the guest room, gave her a nightshirt to change into, and tucked her into the bed, pulling the quilt up around her. Taking her dirty clothes, Annie turned to leave, but Sandy reached out and grabbed her arm.
"I'm sorry to be so much trouble," Sandy said.
Annie smiled. "You're no trouble at all. I'm just happy you're safe, and you're here." Before Annie made it out the door, Sandy was already asleep, exhausted from her ordeal and her tears.
Annie went down the hallway to the bathroom off her bedroom, where a small washer and dryer were stacked in the closet. She placed Sandy's clothes in the washer and started a cycle. Sandy would need clean clothes to go home in tomorrow, and Annie would make sure to mend the shirt and jeans too. As she watched the clothes spin in the front-loading washing machine, Annie said aloud, "Sara, you certainly left a mess behind. Who's going to clean it up?" As much as Annie enjoyed being with William, she didn't know if she was the right person to step into Sara's shoes.
William lay in bed unable to fall asleep. It was past one o'clock in the morning, and he was worried about Sandy. She usually came home on Friday nights, but he hadn't heard from her. He knew she'd been in the Beaverton office today, because he'd spoken to his business partner, Jeffrey, and he'd mentioned her being there. Usually, she called him after work to tell him she was going out with friends and whether she'd be home or stay over with a friend, but tonight she hadn't. And even though Sandy didn't normally come home until after two most mornings, and even though she was nearly twenty-one and an adult, he still worried.
I wish Annie were here
. That sudden thought surprised him. In the short time he'd known her, he'd become dependent upon her for so many aspects of his life. She'd slid into his life so effortlessly, as if she'd always been a part of it, like she belonged there. And when she wasn't with him, as she wasn't tonight, he missed her. He missed hearing the tapping of her laptop keyboard as she worked in the kitchen, her soft laughter over a silly joke or story, and most of all, holding her close through the night.
William pushed back the covers and stepped out of bed, walking to the window. The moon wasn't giving off much light tonight, but his eyes had grown accustomed to the dark. He saw the fog drifting in around the beach below and the mist touching the windows, leaving a layer of moistness that dripped down the outside of the window like tears. He wondered why Annie chose to stay away some nights. Did he take her for granted at times, making her feel used? Did she need to remind herself of how it felt to be unencumbered by staying alone? Was he using her to replace Sara?
"No," William said aloud, trying to convince himself the last thought wasn't true. Annie wasn't Sara. He knew that. He cared about her because of who she was, not for the things that reminded him of Sara. At least, that was what he tried to convince himself to believe.
Turning away from the tearstained window, William's eyes were drawn to the shadow of the easel and painting in the corner of the room. He walked over to it and stared at it long and hard. Maybe Annie wasn't comfortable in a house that still showcased Sara in every room. Maybe, after five years, it was time to put some reminders of Sara away in order to move forward.
William returned to bed with a mental note to put the painting away in the closet under the stairs in the morning. It was a first step. A first step toward putting Sara in the past and Annie in the future. Just as he drifted off to sleep, William's last thought was his hope that Sandy was okay, and he'd see her in the morning.
Chapter Fifteen
It was an unspoken promise between Annie and Sandy not to mention to William about the night Sandy called her. When Annie had presented her with the clean, mended clothes the next morning, Sandy knew that was Annie's way of saying it would be their secret, and they never spoke of it again. And although the scare of that night didn't stop Sandy entirely from partying on the weekends, it did seem to bring Annie and her closer.
The following week found Annie and William both busy with work so, much to William's disappointment, she didn't stay at his house until the next Friday. Annie had been gone two days on an assignment in northern California, and William had been spending long days at the Beaverton office in meetings, which he hated. By Friday night, they were both exhausted and ready for a quiet weekend.
William suggested they go out to a nice restaurant for dinner since he felt guilty for eating so many dinners at home over the past month. Annie readily agreed. She was changing her clothes in the bedroom when she noticed the unfinished painting was gone.
"Where is Sara's painting?" Annie asked William as he was shaving in the bathroom.
"Oh. I put that away last week with the others. I thought it was about time."
Annie looked over at William, who only looked back with a grin. "I didn't mind it here," she said, walking closer to the bathroom door.
William stopped shaving and looked at Annie. "That's nice of you to say, but I thought it was time to finally put it away. I want this house to feel like your home, too, Annie."
Annie pondered this as she dressed, and William showered. While she waited for him to finish, she went downstairs and turned down the hallway to where the closet under the staircase was. She remembered this was where William had said Sara's unfinished paintings were stored, and she decided she wanted to see them.
Carefully, she opened the door and looked inside. Leaning against each other, each covered in a white sheet, were several canvases. Annie pulled the first one out and lifted the sheet. It was the painting from the bedroom. Leaning it against the wall behind her, she pulled out the next painting. Just as she lifted the sheet, a voice behind her blurted out, "What are you doing?"
Annie jumped and almost dropped the painting. Turning around, she saw Sandy standing there, her weekend duffle bag slung on her shoulder and her car keys in hand.
"Geez, you scared me to death," Annie told her.
Sandy looked contrite. "Sorry, I was just wondering why you're in the closet."
Letting out a sigh of relief, Annie answered. "I'm curious to see more of your mom's paintings."
"But they're not finished," Sandy said, dropping her duffle bag to the floor and setting her keys on top.
"I know, but I want to see them." Annie lifted the sheet covering the painting she'd been holding onto and gasped in delight. "It's a waterfall."
Sandy came around to look at the unfinished painting. "It's Multnomah Falls. I was fairly young when Mom started this one. The colors are still vibrant, aren't they?"
Annie gazed at the waterfall, noting the outline of the bridge, the mossy rocks, and the bright green ferns that grew around the waterfall. Looking into the upper falls, Annie noticed several curved lines crossing the water in soft, translucent colors. "What's that?" she asked Sandy, pointing to the lines of color.
Sandy inspected the painting closer. "I think she was starting to paint in a half rainbow. Mom always got excited when she saw a rainbow in a waterfall," she added wistfully.
Annie studied the lines a moment and was reminded of the ribbons of colors in her dreams. Coincidence? A small chill prickled the back of her neck. Pushing away the thought, she continued on. She and Sandy pulled the next painting out of the closet, and this time, Sandy unveiled it.
"Another waterfall," Annie said with glee. She looked at it closely. The crystal clear water spilled over stair-step rocks, and the moss and ferns were so rich in color, Annie felt like she was standing right there at the falls. "Oh, Sandy, I think this one is Fairy Falls. Isn't it beautiful?"
Sandy nodded. "I think you're right. This one is almost finished, too. The colors are just beautiful, aren't they? I wonder why she never finished it."
Annie shook her head. "It's such a shame. She was so talented. It would have been wonderful if she could have finished all of these paintings and shared them with the world."
Sandy nodded.
Annie looked directly at Sandy. "You're an artist. You should finish some of these. Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to finish your mother's work so it would be a part of both of you?"
Sandy frowned and stared at Annie. "Are you crazy? I'm not that good of an artist. Besides, I don't paint landscapes or seascapes like my mother did."
"What do you paint?" Annie asked.
"I don't know, just stuff. I haven't really found my niche yet. And like I said, I'm not nearly as good as my mother was," Sandy said sharply.
"Well, what do your art teachers say about your work?" Annie asked.
This brought a sly smile to Sandy's lips. "They call my work 'explorative and introspective'," Sandy said, mimicking her teachers with a high-brow tone. "Which is just a fancy way of saying they think I suck."
"I doubt that very much," Annie told her. "And you should think about working on your mom's paintings. Maybe that's why you haven't found your niche. Maybe your niche is landscapes and seascapes."
Sandy just shook her head. They continued pulling out unfinished paintings and looking at each one. There were twelve in all. They found one of Haystack Rock at Cannon Beach and another of a lighthouse high atop a cliff. Another painting was of a small cottage by a beach, the trees surrounding it painted brightly in autumn colors. So many beautiful paintings, all unfinished, just like Sara's life.
By the time they'd recovered and carefully replaced each canvas into the closet, William had come down, ready to leave for dinner.
"Hey Sandy," he said, giving his daughter a quick hug. "I'm surprised to see you here. Thought you'd be out with friends tonight."
"No, I'm going to stay around home tonight," she said. "Maybe work on the last of my projects for school."
"Why don't you join us for dinner?" Annie asked.
Sandy looked at the pretty, black dress Annie wore and the suit her father had on. It looked like they were ready to go somewhere nice for a change, and she didn't want to intrude. "Thanks, but three's a crowd. You guys go on ahead. I'll find something for dinner."
After several more unsuccessful attempts to get Sandy to join them for dinner, Annie and William left in his Explorer and drove down the coast to a quiet restaurant by the ocean. They enjoyed a wonderful seafood dinner and caught up on each other's lives since they'd both been so busy all week.