Page 100 of Sparking Sara

I look at the empty stairs and then down at my new kitten. Kokomo is staring up at me like he’s waiting for my answer. I give him a pat on the head as I think about the past week and all the progress Oliver and I have made.

And I nod. “Actually, I do.”

Chapter Twenty-five

For the third time in the past six weeks, I watch Joelle’s twins, Ashley and Zoë, play on the floor of my loft with the new toys I bought them, and I remember Oliver telling me I hate kids. When I was twenty-one, I never paid much attention to them, but what twenty-one-year-old does? Lydia and I had better things to do than play with kids and plan families.

“They are so precious,” I say to Joelle when Zoë gives her sister a hug.

Joelle laughs. “They’re such a handful, sometimes I have to stop and remind myself of that.”

I reach up and run my finger along the scar on my scalp. “Try not to forget,” I tell her. “Because you just never know what could happen.”

She looks at me sympathetically. “I’m so sorry we drifted apart, Sara.”

I shake my head. “You have nothing to feel sorry for. It was all my fault. But everything has changed now, and I plan on being in your lives. Next time, maybe I can come to your house. I’m sure you’re tired of lugging your kids and all their gear into the city.”

Joelle’s eyebrows shoot up. “You can drive?”

“No,” I say sadly. “I think it will be a while before they let me do that. They tell me my judgment of speed and distance isn’t good yet. You should see the exercises they have me doing at therapy, they’re more like games your kids would play. They have me trying to throw a ping-pong ball into a moving bucket.”

“A cab to our place would be pretty expensive,” she says.

I roll my eyes. “Apparently, I can afford it.”

“Yeah, I guess you can.” She nods to the spread of toys on the floor. “You’ve been very generous with the twins. Thank you.”

“I’d like to do more,” I say.

She laughs. “Oh, they have enough toys now. Any more and I won’t be able to walk through my house.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I say. “I’d like to pay for your mom’s expenses at the memory care facility. I know it must be expensive.”

Joelle looks at me, her mouth hanging open. “That’s … that’s very generous of you, Sara. But insurance pays for most of it.”

“Most of it. Not all of it,” I say. “I really want to do this. Aunt Maria was so kind to me after my parents died. I hate to think of the way I must have treated her.”

“You didn’t treat heranyway,” she says. “You just ignored her.”

I close my eyes, feeling horrible about the person I became. “I want to help.”

“Guilt money?” she asks with a raise of her brow.

“No. Yes.” I sigh, leaning back into the couch. “I don’t know, Joelle, maybe it is, but I still want to do something. If you won’t let me pay her bills, then I’d like to set up a college fund for the twins.”

“Let me talk to Dan about it first, okay?”

“Of course.”

“How’s your painting coming along?” she asks.

“Good. I’m painting so much, I ran out of room to store them, so I started giving them away.”

Joelle looks taken aback. “You’re giving away your paintings?”

“Don’t look so surprised. It’s not like they’re works of art. I’ve donated a dozen or so to schools and shelters.”

She studies me. “Wow.”

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