Alison Strobel - The Heart of Memory

Apparently she hadn’t heard that the tour had been canceled – with a great financial loss to A &A. Though she apparently had seen that the book had gone straight to the bestseller list. She obviously underestimated how much authors got paid from their sales.

He banged out I don’t have any money!!! and sent it before he could worry about it any more. He was getting to the point where he almost didn’t care if she went to the press. It was all falling apart anyway, thanks to Savannah.

But if he could just get this stock, and if the stock performed like it was supposed to… at least he’d be able to untangle one mess before anything was discovered.

SAVANNAH AWAKENED TO A RAINY day that perfectly matched the foul mood that had followed her from yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that… right back to the day she’d pulled the rug out from under her life.

It was going to be a cooped-up-tiger day, she could feel it in the way her muscles were twitching to do something else besides keep her upright on the couch. She wished she hadn’t let Shaun sell their treadmill; she definitely could have used it today. Though the inside of the house was beginning to wear on her, too. She wanted to get out just for a bit, stretch her legs and walk a longer track than the upstairs hall where she was getting in what exercise she could to help her body heal from the surgery. But where could she go and not have to worry about being recognized? She’d had nightmares more than once about an angry mob chasing her down in public-which was silly, since they’d all gotten their money back when the tour had been canceled, and no one knew the real reason the plug had been pulled. But she was still nervous, afraid she’d have to lie to cover her tracks if someone were to recognize her and ask what happened.

She thought she’d feel better once she’d admitted to someone how she was feeling, but the weight of the book tour had been replaced by the weight of their future, now that it was certain everything was going to fall apart. Frankly, it was worse now than it had been before her major fail at the book tour kick-off.

And despite the development of her hermit-like tendencies, she was still the kind of person who needed to verbally hash out her thoughts, to process life through conversation. But who could she talk to now? Marisa was probably halfway out the door now that she knew how Savannah really felt. Jessie wasn’t one of the people she usually talked to about life in the first place; she certainly wasn’t going to start opening up now. Plus, Jessie was in the dark about Savannah’s confession, as were the girlfriends she’d pushed away over the past weeks – not that she wanted to reestablish those lines of communication anyway. And Shaun… well, you couldn’t have a conversation with someone who refused to talk to you.

Savannah power-walked the hallway, trying to burn off some of the frustration. Fifteen steps and turn, fifteen steps and turn.

She had to get out of here. She had to talk to someone before she went crazy.

A name popped into her head. She stopped, hands on her hips as she considered it. She would be perfect, actually – provided she was willing to talk to Savannah. It had, after all, been two decades since the last time they’d spoken, and as their final conversation bobbed to the surface of her memory, she cringed with embarrassment over the things she’d said. She had a new perspective now, that was for sure.

Savannah began to walk again, mulling as she did. She was entirely to blame for how much time had passed, for the fact that she and her best friend – former, anyway – hadn’t spoken in twenty years. It probably wouldn’t be wise to try to fix things now; why dredge up that pain, for both of them?

Savannah ditched the hallway and began taking the stairs up and down to give her mind something else to focus on. She pushed herself to do one more flight, then one more, and one more again, until her heart was pounding like it had the day she’d taken the stage for the book tour. It took more effort to get it really going than she’d expected it to; this heart was certainly up to what few challenges Savannah had thrown at it.

She showered and took a nap, then spent the rest of the afternoon in front of the computer, reading the transplant forum and flirting with the idea of trying to track down her friend. Every time she opened Google she froze and shut the browser window before she could type anything.

She was staring at the search engine page once again that night when Shaun came home. She jumped at the sound of the door, having lost track of time. She settled into her seat again to give him time to get occupied somewhere before she snuck off to bed, but he passed her open office door and their eyes unexpectedly locked.

His face held a look of disgust. “On the computer, of course. What else would you do with your life while I’m trying to keep our family and ministry from crashing and burning?”

The attack took her by surprise, but she wasn’t about to let him get away with insulting her. “Don’t you dare judge how I deal with this -”

“Deal? You’re not dealing with anything, Savannah. That’s the problem. You’re wallowing.”

“How would you have any idea what I’m doing, Shaun? How much time have you spent in this house over the last month? If anyone is avoiding things, it’s you. I’m dealing the best way I can, and I’m so very sorry if it’s not fixing things the way you’d like them fixed.”

“Hey, I’d be happy for any kind of fix! But what you’re doing is changing nothing. You just sit on that computer and lose yourself in other people’s problems instead of facing your own.”

“Those people know what it’s like to be in my shoes. You can’t fathom the toll this has taken on me, Shaun. Not that you’d bother to even try.”

Shaun ran a hand through his hair and looked about to respond when he waved her off and left from the doorway. Tears began to form as her adrenaline slowed, but then Shaun was back and her defenses rose again.

“You need therapy. How about spending your day doing that tomorrow. Find someone you can go to, since I know you won’t go to John. I have no idea how we’ll pay for it, but obviously you need help, so…” He left before finishing his thought, though Savannah knew he had nothing left to say.

She stared at the search engine screen, knowing he was right, and dreading trying to explain to a counselor what she was experiencing. What were the odds of finding a therapist well-versed in the emotional trauma of organ transplant? She hadn’t read many posts on the forum about people going to therapy, at least not long term. She had a feeling her issues would require a lot of time to untangle. The odds of it making a difference were slim, she was sure.

But what if this was Shaun’s way of throwing her a bone, of giving her a lead on what might make at least their relationship a little better? Therapy couldn’t hurt, right? And even if it didn’t work, the fact that she was trying had to count for something.

It would probably take forever to find someone who didn’t think she was nuts-but she had plenty of time to spend looking.

“THE LAST ITEM OF BUSINESS IS FOR ME TO ANNOUNCE WE’RE going to be moving to a new location in January. It’s not too far, just off West Uintah. I specifically tried to find something that would keep the change in your commute times at a minimum. It’s a great location, nice neighborhood. I’m going to give up my office and join the rest of you in the cubes, and we may need to combine a couple of you in a cube together, but when we make the move we’ll figure that out.”

Shaun looked around at the blank faces of the staff. He’d expected some kind of a reaction, but they didn’t seem to care. Unfortunately, these were the expressions he saw more often than not these days. “So… when I finalize things with the management company I’ll let you know when our moving date is. Any questions?” He was met again with silence. “Alright then, have a good Monday.”