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her tone, and she could feel her face flush. “All of you wait a minute. I went along with your little intervention because I recognized that in your own buttinsky minds, you thought you were doing a good thing. Not that anyone cared about how I felt. But this goes too far. These are children! Sick children!”
“Yes, they are,” Ali said, obviously confused. “They’re sick children and you’re a doctor.”
“A children’s doctor,” Nic interjected.
“And an artist. I’m not asking you to treat them,” Ali explained. “I’m asking you to teach them to paint.”
Sarah folded her arms. “What’s your problem, Sage?”
Sage closed her eyes. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t understand. That didn’t stop them from judging her, though.
Sarah wasn’t finished. “You know, Sage, we’ve been trying to help you, but you won’t let us. It’s obvious that you have secrets—Nic and I figured that out when you moved here—and it’s plain as day that you don’t want to share them. Okay, fine. I understand about keeping secrets. My big secret is going off to college in the fall. So keep your secrets. But you can’t expect us not to care. We’re your friends. Look at yourself! I’ll bet you’ve lost ten pounds since Thanksgiving, and believe me, it doesn’t look good on you. You’re falling to pieces!”
Sage’s chin came up and she prepared to defend herself, only Sarah wasn’t through. “You even blew off the twins’ christening celebration. And you’re one of their godmothers! What’s wrong with you?”
Familiar guilt rolled through Sage at that. Her only defense for that sin was that Cari and Meg had plenty of other godmothers—Ali, Celeste, Sarah, and Gabe’s three brothers’ wives. However, that was a pitiful, weak excuse, and Sage wasn’t going to float it. Nor was she going to explain that she couldn’t overcome her aversion, that her only option was to stay away. These women didn’t know what it was like. They couldn’t know. And for their sakes, thank God for that.
“Now, Sarah,” Celeste began.
“No.” Sarah lifted her chin. “I’m sorry, Celeste. I know you said to let it be, but I don’t see that letting it be solves anything. Ali needs Sage’s help, and Sage should give it. Those children need her.”
A flash of memory hovered at the edge of Sage’s mind: white diapers and bright red—
“No.” She shook her head hard, flinging the picture away. “No. I don’t do children. Ever. For God’s sake, have you not noticed? Do I volunteer at the school? Do I help coach the girls’ basketball team?”
“You helped at the Valentine’s daddy-daughter dance last year,” Sarah said.
Well, she’d been different then. Stronger. But she couldn’t explain, and while she searched for an acceptable comeback, Nic argued her case by quietly stating, “You won’t hold my girls. You won’t even touch them. You ask how they are, you give me medical advice, but you keep it all clinical. You’ve even distanced yourself from me since they were born.”
Sage’s breathing quickened. Pressure built in her chest and she closed her eyes. Nic’s accusation was true. She had pulled away from Nic since she’d had her babies.
A lump rose in Sage’s throat. She hadn’t realized it—okay, admitted it—until this very second. She’d been trying to tell herself that this current state of emotional turmoil had occurred because of the trouble in December. Now, faced with Nic’s accusation, she recognized that she’d been lying to herself. Her PTSD recovery had hit a wall last September when Nic had her babies, when Sage had delivered those two sweet, precious girls, then fled the house and fallen apart.
“It’s hurt me, Sage,” Nic added, driving the nail even deeper.
Sage wanted to disappear. To melt away into a puddle of nothing. Someone throw water on me. I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. The Wicked Witch of Eternity Springs.
But she couldn’t melt into a puddle, and she couldn’t show weakness, because if she did, these women would pounce. They’d make demands. They’d press her for information. Without knowing what they were doing, they’d send her back to Africa. Make her relive the horror.
Well, that wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t deal with pouncing, so she wouldn’t show them weakness. Instead, she hardened her voice and said, “Well, sorry about that, but you’re just gonna have to deal.”
Turning to Ali, she added, “And you’re gonna have to find someone other than me to teach your art classes.” Her hands were shaking as she grabbed up her tote bag and said, “Sarah, you need to find