Karin Slaughter - A Faint Cold Fear

A knock on the door took Sara out of her reverie.

“Come in,” she called, standing.

Mason James opened the door, carrying a pizza box in one hand and two Cokes in the other. “Thought you might be hungry,” he said.

“Always,” she returned, taking the Cokes.

Mason laid several napkins on the coffee table, holding the pizza aloft as he told her, “I left one with your folks.”

“That was sweet of you,” she said, setting down the cans to help him with the napkins.

Mason gave her the pizza box so he could put napkins under the cans. “You used to love this place in med school.”

“ ‘Shroomies,” she read off the top of the box. “Did I?”

“You ate there all the time.” He rubbed his hands together. “Voilà.”

Sara looked down. He had lined up the napkins into a perfect square. She handed him the box. “I’ll let you put it down the right way.”

He laughed. “Some things never change.”

“No,” she agreed.

“Your sister’s looking good,” he told her, placing the box squarely on the table. “She’s moving around a lot better than she was yesterday.”

Sara sat down on the couch. “I think my mother’s been pushing her.”

“I can see Cathy doing that.” He opened a napkin and put it in her lap. “Did you get the flowers?”

“Yes,” she said. “Thank you. They’re gorgeous.”

He popped open the Cokes. “Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you.”

Sara played with the napkin, not sure what to say.

“Sara,” Mason began, draping his arm on the couch behind her shoulders. “I never stopped loving you.”

She felt a flush of embarrassment, but before she could respond, he leaned over and kissed her. To her surprise, Sara kissed him back. Before she knew what was happening, Mason moved closer, gently pushing her back on the couch until he was lying on top of her. His hands ran up the inside of her shirt as he pressed his body into hers. She put her arms around him, but instead of the mindless euphoria she usually felt at this point, all Sara could think was that the person she was holding was not Jeffrey.

“Wait,” she said, stopping his hand on the button of her pants.

He sat up so quickly that his head hit the wall behind the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” she said, buttoning her shirt, feeling like a teenager who had just gotten caught in the back of a movie theater. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, crossing his ankle over his knee.

“No, I—”

He shook his foot. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s all right,” she told him. “I did it back.”

“You sure did,” he said, exhaling in a short huff. “God, I want you.”

Sara swallowed, feeling like she had too much saliva in her mouth.

He turned to her. “You’re so wonderful, Sara. I think you might have forgotten that.”

“Mason—”

“You’re just extraordinary.”

She felt herself blushing, and he reached over, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Mason,” she repeated, putting her hand over his.

He leaned in to kiss her again, and she tilted her head away from him.

Mason backed off just as quickly the second time.

Sara said, “I’m sorry. I just—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I do, Mason. I have to tell you—”

“Really, you don’t.”

“Stop telling me not to,” she ordered, then barreled into an explanation. “I’ve only been with Jeffrey. I mean, since I left Atlanta.” She moved away from him, scared that if she stayed too close, he would kiss her again. And worse, that she would return the kiss. “It’s just been him since then.”

“That sounds like a habit.”

“Maybe it is,” she said, taking his hand. “Maybe . . . I don’t know. But this isn’t the way to break it.”

He looked down at their hands.

She told him, “He cheated on me.”

“Then he’s an idiot.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is sometimes, but I’m trying to tell you that I know how that feels, and I’m not going to be responsible for making someone else feel that way.”

“Turnabout is fair play.”

“It’s not a game,” she said, then reminded him, “And you’re still married, Holiday Inn or not.”

He nodded. “You’re right.”

She had not expected him to capitulate so easily, but Sara was used to Jeffrey’s dogged tenacity, not Mason’s casual repose. Now she remembered why it was so easy to leave Mason behind, like everything else she left in Atlanta. There was no spark between them. Mason had never had to fight for anything in his life. She wasn’t even sure he wanted her now so much as that she was just convenient.

Sara said, “I’m going to go check on Tess.”

“Why don’t I call you?”

If he had phrased it differently, she might have said yes. As it was, she told him, “I don’t think so.”

“All right,” Mason said, giving her one of his easy smiles.

She stood to leave, and he did not speak again until she was walking out the door.

“Sara?” He waited for her to turn around. He was leaning back on the couch, his arm still draped along the edge, legs casually crossed. “Tell your folks I said to take care.”

“I will,” she said, then shut the door.

Sara stood at the window of her sister’s hospital room, watching traffic inch by on the downtown connector. Tessa’s steady breathing behind her was like the sweetest music Sara had ever heard. Every time she looked at her sister, it took everything Sara had not to get into bed with her just to hold her and know that she was safe.

Cathy came into the room holding a cup of tea in each hand. Sara flashed back to the Dairy Queen almost a week ago, when Tessa had been unbearably irritable. Sara wanted that moment back so badly she could almost taste it.

Sara asked, “Is Daddy okay?” Her father had been overcome when Sara had told them about Richard Carter. He had walked away before Sara had finished telling them what had happened.

“He’s standing at the end of the hall,” Cathy said, not really answering the question.

Sara took a sip of the tea and scowled at the taste.

“It’s strong,” Cathy agreed. “Will Jeffrey be here soon?”

“Should be.”

Cathy stroked Tessa’s hair. “I remember watching y’all sleep when you were babies.”

Sara used to love hearing her mother talk about their childhood, but she had such a clear sense of before and after now that it hurt to listen.

Cathy asked, “How’s Jeffrey?”

Sara drank the bitter tea. “Fine.”

“This was hard on him,” she said, taking a tube of hand lotion out of her purse. “He’s always been like a big brother to Tessa.”

Sara had not let herself consider this before, but it was true. As horrified as she had been in the woods, Jeffrey was just as frightened.

“I’m beginning to see why you can’t stay mad at him,” Cathy said as she rubbed lotion into Tessa’s hand. “Do you remember that time he drove to Florida to pick her up?”

Sara laughed, but more from her own surprise that she had forgotten the story. Years ago, when Tessa was on spring break from college, her car had been totaled by a stolen beer truck, and Jeffrey had driven down to Panama City in the middle of the night to talk to the local cops and bring her home.

“She didn’t want Daddy to come get her,” Cathy said. “Wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Daddy would have said ‘I told you so’ all the way back,” Sara reminded her. Eddie had said only an idiot would take a convertible MG down to Florida with twenty thousand drunken college kids.

“Well,” Cathy said, rubbing lotion into Tessa’s arm, “he was right.”