Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

But tonight the thought of recalculating a recipe to serve one instead of eight seemed too laborious. She wanted to be catered to, to sit back and let someone else prep and serve. She also wanted a drink. She hadn’t had one in a long time-decades, even. Technically she wasn’t supposed to drink alcohol now because of her medication, but one drink wouldn’t be the end of the world. The only problem was that getting one would mean going out.

But who knew when Shaun would finally get home? He stayed at A &A so late sometimes that she was on her way to bed by the time he finally got in. She couldn’t imagine what was keeping him so long, though honestly she wasn’t sure she’d want to go celebrate with him, anyway. Things with Shaun were… not great. It was mostly her own fault, she knew; keeping secrets always resulted in relationships falling apart in one way or another. But she wasn’t ready to spill this one, especially not with this book on its way to publication. She had to keep the image up at least until after the book’s initial release and publicity push. Maybe after that she’d be able to let Shaun in on the truth. Though the fact that he was keeping his own secrets and that he’d fired Nick behind her back still burned her, too. And yes, she recognized the hypocrisy in being angry at him for keeping secrets, but hypocrisy was low on her list of concerns right now.

She went to Jessie’s room to raid her closet again. She wasn’t sure where she was going to go, or with whom; she just knew she wanted to get out. She sorted through Jessie’s clothes, looking for something that didn’t appear too young. She finally paired a blouse with black slacks and topped it off with one of her own vests that didn’t have to be fastened closed to still look nice. As she did her makeup she tried to think of someone to call, but she couldn’t handle any God talk tonight, and she was bound to get that with all of her friends, the lot of whom she’d dodged as much as possible lately-even to the point of all-out lying just to avoid getting together. By the time she was done with her hair, she had given up on finding a companion and decided instead to just go out alone.

She drove for ten minutes before deciding on the steakhouse she and Shaun had often gone to on date nights. She took a seat at the bar, the first time she’d ever done something like that in her life, and ordered a martini. She kept one eye on the door in case a familiar face walked in as she sipped the drink and willed the knots of tension to undo themselves in her shoulders.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been alone and enjoyed herself. She’d spent plenty of time alone at home while she’d been sick, but it had been far from pleasant. Since her surgery she’d been alone quite a bit as well, but her thoughts were so tormented by anger and doubt that she’d been miserable pretty much the whole time. Before getting sick, being alone had been torture – she’d always wanted to be in a conversation, relating to someone, engaging with people. Alone had equaled boring. But she found herself relaxing and reveling in the experience now.

A gentleman in a suit and loosened tie sat down two seats from her. They exchanged polite smiles, but after he got his drink he leaned over and said, “I’ve never been here before-would you recommend any of their appetizers?”

“Oh… well, the shrimp cocktail is good. I’ve had that a few times.”

He nodded. “That does sound good. I’ll try that; thanks.”

She gave an approving nod, then went back to people watching as the stranger ordered from a roving waitress. When she returned with the appetizer a few minutes later, the man slid the plate down the bar so it sat between them. “Care to share?”

It took a second for it to sink in that he was flirting with her. She was about to get indignant when she realized she didn’t have her rings on. Well, guess I can’t blame him, then. “That’s sweet – thank you. But I really shouldn’t.”

He tipped his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Are you sure? I hear they’re very good.”

She laughed, enjoying the interplay. When had someone last flirted with her? Decades ago, certainly. Wedding rings had a way of deterring men – and well they should. But it was nice to know she could still attract attention, especially given the way the medication had affected her once-trim figure.

“Well… maybe just one.” She reached over and plucked a shrimp from the rim of the glass.

“I’m David.”

“I’m, um, Roberta.” It was almost true-her middle name was Robertson, her mother’s maiden name. She wasn’t about to give this stranger her real name.

“Are you waiting for someone to join you, Roberta?” His eyes were very green. She liked them.

“No, actually. Are you?”

“Savannah?”

The familiar voice sent an arrow of adrenaline through her. She straightened up, having been unaware just how close to David she’d been leaning, and saw Colleen and her husband at the front of the bar.

“Colleen, hi.” She grabbed her purse and slid from her seat, avoiding eye contact with David. She was shaky with fear. How much had they seen?

“Long time no see, huh?” Colleen asked when Savannah reached them. “Where’s Shaun?”

“Oh, he was working late – I finished my book and wanted to celebrate, so I just thought I’d go out for a drink.”

“The book is done? That’s great, congratulations.” She smiled, but Savannah would have sworn she saw a glint in Colleen’s eye that hinted at reproach. “Would you like to join us? We just came for some dessert.”

“No, but thanks. I should be going anyway – Shaun will probably be home soon.” She gave them each a brief hug, then made a beeline for the car, burning with embarrassment.

What had she been thinking? Shame burned in her chest as she drove home. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

SAVANNAH LET HERSELF IN TO an empty house when she got back. She had hoped Shaun would be home so she could make herself feel better by doting on him a bit. But no, he was still at work, presumably, and that just made her mad. Well, even more mad than she already was.

This new person she was becoming was really making a mess of things. How could she have let herself be so careless-had she forgotten people recognized her in Colorado Springs? How often did she ever go out without getting stopped by someone, either a friend, or someone from church, or someone who had read her books or seen her at a conference? The Old Savannah never would have made such a rookie mistake, and now one of her closest friends – at least, she used to be-had a good reason to come track her down and start insisting on answers.

And when she did, flanked by the other women and refusing to take the hint that Savannah didn’t want to talk, what was she going to tell them? The Old Savannah had been characterized by her faith in God, her passion for ministering to women, and her energetic extroverted personality. They’d never believe her if she admitted she couldn’t bear the thought of crowds, couldn’t care less about how other women handled their lives, and didn’t believe in God.

I don’t believe in God…

She froze before the mirror where she was washing the makeup from her face. It was true. The concept of God meant nothing to her now. She’d been telling herself it was just the depression, the baseless anger, that was clouding her love for God. But if she was brutally honest, her faith was gone.

She scrubbed her face clean and went to her laptop to log into the transplant forum. She started searching for posts about when people started feeling more like themselves. She scanned entry after entry, her heart sinking with each one that touched on the waning of the emotional rollercoaster. This was when most people started to improve, to emerge from the fog of depression or at least notice the depression coming in shorter, less intense spurts. The same seemed to be true for the anger some felt-and their anger was often easily traced to something.