Seeking Sarah Read online

I rolled my eyes and angrily wiped the tears from my face. “There is nothing for you to say. Complicated or not, you don’t abandon your kid. End of story.” I gritted my teeth. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me.”

  “Can we, oh my goodness . . .” She fanned herself. “What made you, I mean, why are you here?”

  Those four little words packed an unimaginable punch. Sarah Ford had just found her daughter after twenty-five years and all she could say was, “Why are you here?”

  Those four little words were like gasoline being poured onto a small brushfire.

  I inhaled. Stood erect. I couldn’t do this right now. I was too emotional and I wanted a clear head when I listened to her excuses.

  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Ford, your perfect pretend life is safe—for now.”

  I stomped toward my car, struggling not to burst into tears.

  CHAPTER 23

  * * *

  I know that I’d walked away from her at the bookstore, but my mother had made no attempt in the past week to get in touch with me. And that caused the anger to overtake the hurt. Shoot, I might as well have filled out a change-of-address form for Pissed-Off Lane because that’s where I now resided.

  My mother had just let me walk away.

  Just like she had done twenty-five years ago.

  But I wasn’t about to let her off that easy. That’s why I was here, at High Point Elementary School, ready to share her secret, in front of her coworkers—if that’s what it had to come to.

  “Good afternoon!” The custodian flashed a crooked-tooth smile. “You need some help, lil’ lady?”

  His warm smile made me find my own. “Hi. Yes, which way to the front office?”

  He pointed to the doors behind me. “You just passed it.”

  “Thank you.” I nodded my appreciation and scurried toward the ornate double doors I’d just walked past.

  “Hi, may I help you?” the woman at the front desk asked after I stepped into the front office.

  “Yes, um, I’m here to see Mrs. Ford.” I struggled to keep my voice from trembling.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, sugar,” the woman, who could have been anybody’s grandmother, said. “Mrs. Ford is gone for the day.”

  I bit my bottom lip. Why in the world had I just assumed that she’d be here?

  “Did you have an appointment? Or is there something I can help you with?” she asked.

  I contemplated my next move. Finally, I said, “I’m considering putting my child in your school and was just looking around.”

  “Well, you’re definitely in the right place.” She stood and walked around the front desk. “As you can see, we’re an award-winning school.” She pointed to a wall filled with photos, certificates, and ribbons.

  “Is that Mrs. Ford?” I asked, pointing to a picture of Sarah surrounded by a bunch of children.

  “It is.” The woman beamed with pride. “She is such a blessing to our children. I’ve never met a woman who had a heart for kids like she does.” Adoration covered the woman’s face to the point that I so wanted to burst her bubble and tell her the real deal about her beloved principal. “She treats each of these children as if they were her own,” the woman continued.

  “That’s nice to hear,” I finally managed to say.

  “What grade is your child in?”

  “Second,” I quickly replied. The sight of my mother surrounded by a sea of adoring faces sent ripples of pain through my heart. I wondered if at any time that she was standing there, posing for this picture, she thought of her own daughter. Her oldest daughter.

  “Boy or girl?” the woman asked.

  “A little girl.”

  “Oh, our second graders are so precious. Your daughter will fit right in.” The woman pointed to an empty spot on the wall. “We’ll be placing a very prestigious award here next week,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Ford is nominated for a CNN Excellence Award. That’s a tremendous honor. It’s televised and everything. She’s being recognized for her outstanding commitment to our young people. She was a product of the foster-care system and pulled herself up on her own, putting herself through school, and now she is giving back.”

  Either my mother had completely transformed or she was pulling some kind of number on these people.

  “Well, would you like a tour of the campus?” the woman asked. “I’d be happy to show you around.”

  I feigned a smile. “No, I was actually hoping to see Mrs. Ford.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. She had to take her daughter to the doctor. She’s out for the rest of the day.”

  I struggled to mask my frustration. “Okay, maybe some other time.”

  “Yes, you’ll have to make plans to come back and meet our principal. You’ll simply love her.”

  I did at one time, I thought.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” I said before hastily making my exit.

  CNN?

  Excellence Award?

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” I mumbled as I pulled out my iPhone. “Siri, may I have directions to CNN?”

  IT HAD TAKEN ME almost an hour to get a producer at CNN to come out and speak with me. I understood security, but you would have thought I was some kind of crazed terrorist the way they kept giving me the runaround. It wasn’t until I called the CNN special events producer and convinced her that she needed to give me ten minutes of her time that I finally felt like I was getting somewhere.

  “Mrs. Latimore?” a petite, white-haired woman said as she approached me.

  “Yes.” I stood and shook her hand. “Thank you for coming out to see me.” On the drive over, I grew even angrier at the fact that not only was my mother not in hiding, but she was about to appear on a nationally televised program. You would think someone who abandoned her family would try to keep a low profile. But she was willing to appear on CNN? That meant she didn’t give two damns about me.

  “Well, you sounded pretty persistent,” the producer said with a smile. “And truthfully, when you told me your information could save us a lot of embarrassment, I thought I needed to hear you out.”

  I nodded my appreciation. “I’m glad you did and I won’t take up much of your time.”

  “So you said it was about one of our honorees for the CNN Excellence Award?”

  “It is,” I replied. “What is your criteria for the award?”

  “A positive influence in the community, someone who goes above and beyond the call of duty.”

  “Sounds like it’s a prestigious award.”

  “It is. Past recipients have included Maya Angelou and Oprah Winfrey.”

  “And my understanding is it also comes with a ten-thousand-dollar monetary award?”

  “It does. But may I ask where you are going with this? You mentioned Sarah Ford on the phone.” A veil of nervousness started to form across the woman’s face.

  “Do you all do background checks?” I continued.

  “No.” She eyed me skeptically.

  “Hmmm, you probably should. In fact, if you did a background check on Sarah Ford, you’d be unpleasantly surprised.”

  “I don’t understand. Mrs. Ford is a highly regarded principal in the Atlanta area and a noted community figure.”

  “Well, things aren’t always what they seem,” I replied.

  Her eyes were wide as she said, “What does that mean?”

  I shrugged. “You’re the newsperson. You figure it out. Let’s just say Sarah has a lot of secrets in her background, a secret past, a secret criminal record, secrets that could really affect the credibility of your award.”

  The producer’s mouth opened in shock. “Secrets like what?” she asked.

  “Let’s just say she’s not who she says she is. Her rags-to-riches story is the stuff novels are made of, and setting her up as an ambassador for your company will be something you will come to regret,” I said matter-of-factly.

  I could tell I had completely cau
ght her off guard. Good. I hoped she went right back to her desk and started digging.

  “Try the name Sarah Hayes or Sarah Watson,” I added, giving them her maiden name. And if I were you, I’d look in criminal databases, too.” I was going to tear down Sarah Ford’s perfect lie of a life brick by brick.

  “Why are you telling us this? Do you know Sarah?”

  “That’s irrelevant.” I slid my sunglasses back on. “I just thought you should know. And maybe rethink that honor. I have to get going.”

  She hurled more questions at me but I headed toward the door, satisfied that Sarah wouldn’t be getting any CNN Excellence Award anytime soon.

  CHAPTER 24

  * * *

  My optimism had turned into full-blown pessimism and all my dreams of a reality-show-worthy reunion were out the window. My mother had no idea how much her words outside that bookstore had hurt me. How much her inability to embrace me cut to my core.

  And I wasn’t even sure she would care if she did know.

  Why are you here?

  Twenty-five years.

  No tears of joy. No “Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  Just, Why are you here?

  Then any room I had left for pain, Trent had filled it up when I called him to tell him about meeting my mother and he acted disinterested, and ending up cutting our call short.

  The stress of these last few days had been like a boulder, weighing on me to the point that I finally decided that a change of scenery might help. So I was now sitting at a corner table at the Bistro Cafe, letting my tomato basil soup simmer in my bowl and talking to April on the phone. I’d just filled her in on everything, and listened to her first get just as angry as me, then turn to trying to comfort me.

  “Maybe she doesn’t know how to get in touch with you.” April said that like even she didn’t believe it.

  “All she has to do is ask her son. That just means she doesn’t want to get in touch with me,” I responded.

  April sighed, sadness filling her voice. “So, are you going to go and try to talk to her later?”

  I tested my soup, saw it was still too hot, then leaned back and replied, “Yeah, I still have so many questions, but I was just too emotional the other day.” I think I had cried so many tears these past three days, I no longer had any tears to cry.

  “She’s probably somewhere freaking out, worried about what you’re up to,” April said.

  “That’s what makes this hurt so much,” I continued. “I feel like all she is worried about is me messing up this fake life she’s created. She’s not the least bit worried about me, or establishing a relationship with me. It just pisses me off and I want her to know my pain.”

  “I know, sweetie. I’m so sorry,” April said.

  My eyes made their way to the front door of the restaurant, and the man who had just walked in.

  “Oh, my, God,” I muttered.

  “What?” April asked.

  “Sarah’s husband, Anthony, just walked in.”

  “Oh, you should go over, tell him to meet you at the motel down the street, then put it on him. That would be the perfect payback for Sarah.” April laughed.

  I didn’t.

  The perfect payback.

  “Uh, hellooo,” April said once silence filled the phone. “Are you still there?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered as I watched Anthony. He was tapping away on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings. “The perfect payback,” I muttered.

  “What?” April paused, and when I didn’t reply, her tone turned serious. “Ah, I was kidding,” April said. “Brooke, do you hear me? It was a joke.”

  I nodded as my eyes followed him, taking in his lean build, wondering if I could bring myself to be with him.

  “Brooke, are you still there?”

  “Mmm-hmmm. Let me call you back.”

  “Brooke, what are you about to do?” April said, panicked. “Do not do anything with that woman’s husband.”

  “Bye, April. I’ll call you later.”

  Though my mother and her husband seemed happy, the way Anthony had looked at me in his office the other day, I was sure he had a wandering eye.

  April was right. The perfect way to pay my mother back for all the hurt she’d caused me would be to seduce her husband.

  That’s not you.

  I heard my cousin’s voice as if she were in the same room with me.

  I watched as Anthony got in line, placed his order and after paying, walked into the crowded lobby to look for a seat.

  I shook away the devilish plan. Despite my issues with Trent, I was still engaged and hoping to soon be his wife. I couldn’t be entertaining the idea of sleeping with another man. I could, however, take advantage of this opportunity that had all but dropped into my lap to feel him out for something more that I could use to damage my mother’s little façade.

  “Mr. Ford?” I said as he passed.

  He stopped, and a smile spread across his face. “Meredith, right?” He walked over and shook my hand. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Nice to see you, too,” I replied, making sure my fingers lingered just long enough to cause his eyebrow to raise. I felt some kind of way about flirting with him, but I thought about my mother in that Barnes & Noble parking lot, then pushed those feelings aside. Besides, I was just flirting, trying to get information, nothing more.

  “I passed your proposal on to the mayor, so hopefully you’ll hear something soon,” he said.

  “Thank you.” I’d planned to politely decline if we were actually awarded the contract, telling the city that we’d lost staff and couldn’t take on new projects.

  The waiter walked over with Anthony’s order. “Are you order number 122?”

  “Yeah. That’s me,” he said, holding up his ticket.

  The waiter pointed to my table. “Is this where you’re sitting?”

  “Yes,” I said, moving my bowl of soup. “You can set his plate here.”

  “Oh, no. I don’t want to intrude,” he said.

  “You are no intrusion. Besides, you gotta take a break from work. And I could use the company.”

  That elicited another smile.

  “Guess you’re right,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me. “My wife always says I’m such a workaholic and I was going to try and work through lunch, but I guess I need a break.” His eyes roamed over me again, and this time I gave him more to see as I crossed my leg, just enough for the split in my plum wrap dress to open to reveal my toned thigh.

  I ignored his gaze on my legs and said, “So, have you been married long?”

  He caught himself, then lifted his eyes back up to meet mine. “Eleven years,” he said as he spread his napkin across his lap.

  I nodded, carefully weighing my next words as he bit into his club sandwich.

  “I always heard that around year seven, you get the seven-year itch.”

  He stopped midchew, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, then said, “Yeah, marriage isn’t easy.”

  “And not for everyone,” I said, wiggling my ring finger at him. A quick pang shot through my heart as I thought of my engagement ring. I prayed that once this was all over, Trent would put it back on my finger.

  “I can’t believe a beautiful woman like you is single. Oh, excuse me,” he quickly corrected. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. You’re probably very much taken.”

  “No. You had it right the first time,” I replied. “Very much single. I work a lot, too.”

  Like Alex, Anthony was easy to talk to. I could see why my mother would fall for him. What I had yet to figure out was, if they’d been married eleven years, what had my mom been doing for the fourteen years before that?

  “You know, marketing was my first love in school,” Anthony said. “I even majored in advertising and marketing. But then politics called my name.”

  “Oh, I have no doubt you’ll go far in the political arena. I can see you one day being mayor, governor, senator, or better yet,
you’ll skip all that and go straight to president.”

  He laughed. “Nah. I wasn’t exactly a model kid in college. That might keep me from being a president, but governor would be nice.”

  I put my hand on top of his. “I don’t know you well, but if anybody can do it, I have a feeling you can.”

  He looked down at my hand as if I had sent an electric jolt through his body.

  “You know, your work alone speaks for itself,” he said. “You had the best proposal, period.”

  I wanted to bury my head in shame. I removed my hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t meaning to be forward.”

  “I’m just teasing. Actually, I’m very flattered.” Lust filled his eyes and made me question what I was doing, flirting for information. First the son, then the father?

  There had to be a better way.

  This was so out of character for me. I’d never in all my years flirted with a married man. I’d treasured the sanctity of marriage, and even though I was conflicted over the whole institution, I would have never thought I would lower myself to this for any reason.

  My mother had turned me into someone I didn’t know.

  “Well, I need to get going,” I replied. I’d barely touched my soup. But there was only so much rejection a woman could take. “I’ll leave you to your lunch. You have a good day, okay.” I stood and started gathering my things. I couldn’t believe I’d stooped so low.

  “No, wait,” he said, gently grabbing my arm to stop me. I turned and the lustful look in his eyes wiped away my reservations. “I would love to see you again.”

  My heart sped up. The way he stroked my wrist, there was no doubt what he wanted.

  I took a deep breath.

  No, no, no.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’d like that.”

  He handed me his phone. “Type your number in,” he commanded.

  I pushed aside April’s nagging voice and let the devil lead my fingertips.

  CHAPTER 25

  * * *

  It had taken less than forty-eight hours for Anthony Ford to call my phone. And since my mother hadn’t bothered to call my phone, seeing her husband’s phone number pop up on my screen brought me a perverse joy.