Page 43 of Sparking Sara

“Arse.”

“Right. I won’t be an arrogant arse. But I would like to continue to help her when you can’t be here yourself. I only work a few days a week. It’s really no trouble. And believe me, I’m not after her money, Oliver. I didn’t even know she had any until Lydia told me about it.”

“Who’s Lydia?”

“Sara’s childhood best friend,” I say, wondering why he wouldn’t know this about someone he’s engaged to.

Part of me wants to follow him home. Or have Jake put a tail on him to see if he is who he says he is.

“Oh, Lydia, the waitress from high school. Of course. They had a falling out some years back, before Sara and I met.”

I breathe a sigh of relief and nod.

“So why the interest in Sara?” he asks.

I try to think of what Marcus would want me to say to that question. I shrug. “I suppose it has something to do with my parents dying in a car accident or some psychobabble shit like that.”

“Sorry to hear that, mate.”

“Listen, I won’t step on your toes, okay?”

He nods. “Fine.”

“I have to work tomorrow. Do you think you can spend the day with her?”

“Not all day,” he says. “I have a lot of work to make up after my holiday or I’ll be sacked for sure. But I can be here in the morning.”

“I’ll call Joelle and see if she can make it in the afternoon.”

“I’m sure Sara would fancy that,” he says, pressing the call button on the elevator.

I hold my hand out to him. “I’m sorry if I came on too strong earlier.”

“I guess I should be happy that Sara had someone looking out for her.”

He turns to step onto the elevator when something occurs to me. “Oliver,” I say, holding the doors open. “Did you know Anna? Her friend who died in the accident?”

His jaw twitches. “Not particularly.”

“I thought Joelle said all you artist types run in the same circles.”

“Sara is the artist. I’m just the one who—how do you Americans say—pimps their shit?”

I remove my hand and let the doors close as he gives me a curt wave goodbye.

Sara is sleeping again when I return to her room. I see she’s back on the vent. It’s understandable. She’s had a tough day with all the therapy and then meeting Oliver.

She’s sleeping restlessly, so I decide to play some music. Beach Boys, of course. It calms her down.

When she wakes up, it’s almost time for me to head out. She looks at me and then around the room, seeming relieved that it’s just me. This must be so hard for her. I wonder how she must feel about waking up to find out she’s engaged to be married to a guy she doesn’t even know. And sheliveswith him. I think I’ll let him be the one to tell her that little piece of information. Luckily, she won’t be going straight home. That will give her time to get to know him again.

Before I go, I pick up the deck of playing cards. I made a promise to myself earlier when I saw Neil working with her that I’d do everything I could to reinforce what he’s doing. I raise the head of her bed and put the same four cards in her lap.

“Do you remember what card I asked you to hand me this morning?”

Her eyes go straight to the ace of spades, and I can’t help the smile that overtakes my face. She’s committing things to memory.

She lifts her right hand slightly and moves it over six inches, where she drops it like a dead weight onto the card. She works hard to maneuver the card between her fingers and then she pushes it towards me.

---