Saving Sarah (The Gold Coast Retrievers Book 1), page 11
“Yeah, just a sec.” Sarah stalked over to the printer and waited until their letter popped out before returning to Finch, who’d stayed behind to log off both computers. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him.
Finch folded it over twice and shoved it in his pocket. “Thanks. Are you ready for this? This could be it, you know. The big resolution to our case.” His smile unnerved her. How could he not be torn in two? This was his family’s past, his story.
And now her one-thing-at-a-time rule would be put to the test. If this was truly the end of their investigation into Eleanor’s big secret, then that meant the next mystery they’d have to solve would be what they meant to each other.
Was she ready for that? Was he?
“I’m not coming to the hospital,” she told him. “You’ll have to confront her yourself.”
“But why not? You are just as much as part of this as I am. Maybe more, since accessing the archives here was your idea.”
Sarah shook her head, her words shaking on their way out. “She doesn’t want to see me, Finch. You’ve got a better shot at getting to the truth than I do. Plus, I don’t even know if I’m allowed in. I’m not family, but you are.”
Finch surprised her by grabbing her hand and kissing the tops of her fingers. “Will you wait for me?”
“Wait for what? Outside the hospital? I mean, I guess, but…”
“Sure, let’s start with that.” His superhero smile flashed across his face, and for a moment she let herself believe that he could save her, that she wouldn’t have to discover any of these answers for herself.
“But why? You don’t need me to—”
He grabbed her hand again, kissed it again. “Yes, I do. Don’t ever doubt that I need you. Because, one, I want you to know what happens at the first possible second. Two, I may need backup. And three, whether or not we get anything out of her today, I’m taking you out to dinner to celebrate.”
Sarah wished that time could stand still—that they could stay here with the thrill of what they’d learned, together yet still apart, not needing to confront the difficult choices that lay ahead. Time, however, marched on, and so would she.
“But the case isn’t solved yet,” Sarah argued. “We still don’t know what the rest of the numbers mean. The list.”
“Then I better get it out of her, huh?” Finch let go of her hand and offered her a reassuring nod. “If that’s what it takes, then that’s what I’ll do. I’ll get the answers, Sarah. For both of us.”
Finch darted through the halls of the hospital, a homing missile zeroing in on its target more than ready for the explosion that would inevitably follow. Never had he been so eager to see his miserly aunt than in this very moment. Did they finally have enough to force a confession from her, or were there still twists and turns in this case that he couldn’t even begin to fathom?
Predictably, Eleanor turned away when he entered the room. “Leave me be,” she said in a strained whisper. The dark circles beneath her eyes had grown even more prominent. As much as they didn’t get along, he hated to see her like this, to know she was so near her end.
“We’ve finally done it,” he said, coming deeper into the room, needing to see the look on her face as he made his big revelation. “We figured out your mystery.”
“Oh?” Eleanor looked unimpressed as she arranged the thin hospital blanket on her lap. “Well, c’mon then, let’s hear it.”
She doesn’t believe me. She didn’t think I could do it, but she wasn’t counting on Sarah adding herself to the equation.
Facing the old woman now, he wanted more than anything to impress her with his knowledge, for her to know once and for all that she’d been found out, that her crimes would not be laid to rest beside her in the casket.
“The babies weren’t stillborn,” he said, standing at the end of her bed and waiting, waiting, waiting for her to look at him. “They were stolen. Just like my grandma. But they were reported as dead. You said your sister took her, but you were involved somehow, too.”
The words tumbled out quickly, unable to be contained for even a fraction of a second longer than needed. “We found your letter to the editor. You defended him because you knew it wasn’t all his fault. You were working together—the three of you and maybe more.”
Eleanor finally brought her gaze to meet his. “Close, but not quite there.” She smiled then. It was the first time Finch had ever seen such an expression cross her face, and it terrified him. Happy? Why now? Was it that she was finally free from carrying the guilt alone? Or had he fallen into something far more sinister than he’d once feared?
“Dr. Karda—may he rest—never had anything to do with it,” Eleanor continued, her voice soft, almost pleasant. “He was as innocent as the babies we stole right out from under his nose.”
It still didn’t make sense. He needed to understand, needed her to tell him. “But why?” he asked, finally seeing that she may have once been a kind and good person before guilt twisted her into something unrecognizable.
“Because it was easy at the time, and very needed,” Eleanor explained with another wistful smile. Everything about her had softened. Finally, she was free. He’d done this for her, along with Sarah. He hadn’t wanted to help, but she’d made sure he did. And that felt like an incredible way to say both hello and goodnight to the aunt he’d never really had a chance to know.
“The baby boom that followed the war really shone a light on the couples who couldn’t conceive,” Eleanor said, keeping her eyes on him as she spoke. “It wasn’t talked about back then like it is now. They desperately wanted children and would pay very handsomely to get them.”
Finch’s face crumpled into a frown, and Eleanor’s followed suit. The nobleness of his effort felt tainted now. This had all been for money? All this only to save her from the guilt of her own greed?
“Don’t look at me like that,” she whispered, turning away. “We always chose our marks carefully. The couples paying us, they had posh lifestyles. They could afford to give the babies everything. We took them from the families who had next to nothing. It was a charity, really, giving those children a better life than they otherwise would have had.”
“How could you possibly say that? You literally stole from the poor. You say they had nothing, and then you took what was left?” And he’d helped. He’d helped to absolve the crimes of a monster. Had he known…
I still would have gone through with it, he realized. To make Sarah happy, to spend time with her.
Eleanor’s eyes became unfocused as she stared vacantly into the corner of the room. Finch wondered if she was seeing the past unfold again before her. Instead of answering any of his questions, she continued with her tale.
“We only took one more after the doctor’s death. It became too risky after that, so we stopped. My sister wanted to keep going, but I refused. Said we’d done enough damage.” Back and forth she went, one minute appearing as the benevolent savior of these lost babies and in the next, the cruel puppet master who’d pulled one too many strings.
Finch couldn’t judge the past, but he desperately wanted to know how Eleanor interpreted her own role in all these events. “But you said you were doing those babies a favor, giving them a better life. Now you say you did damage. Which was it?”
A shiver ran through her, leaving the old woman wilted as it left. They’d figured this out just in time. Maybe Eleanor had been holding on for the sole purpose of passing on her tale.
“Neither,” she said in answer to his question, and then, “Both. It’s impossible to say. I had to believe we were helping. It was the only way to keep the guilt from suffocating me.”
The pieces still weren’t lining up. “So why confess now?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think, sitting here waiting to die. I remember your grandma’s reaction to finding out the truth, and she only ever knew a small part of it. I followed you on the news. I saw what a failure you’d become, and I wondered how different your life might have turned out if we’d never taken her.”
She did this for me? It made no sense. She never even knew him before now, yet she’d voluntarily faced the weight of her crimes to help him? He still didn’t understand. One very big part of the puzzle remained out of reach.
“What does the list you gave Sarah mean?” he asked. “We saw that part of one of the numbers matched up to the date of the editorial, but we can’t figure out the rest.” Finch shoved his phone at her, the picture of Eleanor’s list enlarged on the screen.
She studied it, shaking her head. A tear rolled down her smooth cheek and plopped onto the shiny surface below. “I hardly remember myself. I kept those records so long ago. Markers of what was in the room where the baby was born, dates, info about the birth parents and the adoptive parents. So that we could find them again if ever we needed to.”
“How can I find my missing family?” he said, taking the phone back, knowing the conversation had come to its end.
“I don’t know, but now that you know they’re out there, perhaps you can figure it out. And, Finch…” She smiled sweetly, the smile of someone who had loved and lost and perhaps found again. “I really hope you do.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah waited outside the hospital as promised, although she really didn’t see the point. Finch stayed inside for so long that she began to wish she had at least tried to see Eleanor with him. To pass the time, she walked several laps around the complex. When Finch still hadn’t returned, she pulled out her phone and installed the Reel Life app once again.
And as she browsed through all the pictures and videos she had missed in her brief absence, she knew she’d made the right choice by rejoining. Reel Life was something Finch didn’t like, but now that she’d had a bit of a break, she realized it was something she did. She realized now that she needed to make decisions because they were right for her, not because they were what someone else wanted.
Living vicariously through others meant she never really got to live at all. Her time off work had made that abundantly clear. At first she’d been lost without the patients to fill her day. Heck, she was still lost. But at least now she knew to look for a compass.
The car beeped, drawing her from her self-exploration. Finch plopped into the driver’s seat and ran both hands through his hair before turning to Sarah and shaking his head. “She confessed,” he said in a way that suggested he still couldn’t believe it.
He caught her up on the kidnappings, the money, the written list, all of it. Finch seemed so sad in the wake of these momentous discoveries, and Sarah longed to help him feel better. To save him.
“Wow,” she said when he’d finally finished. “She played God with so many lives. Including yours. How do you feel?”
“I’m really not sure. I still have to finish decoding the numbers from her list, and then I guess I’m going to find my family.” He grabbed her hand and laced his fingers through hers—and she let him. The physical connection seemed to help him find his strength again. “Find as many of the families as I can.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense.”
Finch sighed and pulled Sarah into a hug. The center console between them made it awkward, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Thank for you doing this with me, Sarah. I would never have known without you.”
Oh no. I’m doing it again. Doing what I think other people want, not figuring out what I need. Maybe one day she would end up as Mrs. Finch Jameson, but she wasn’t ready to take that leap today. She needed time to think, to discover…
“You’re a smart guy,” she said, going limp in his arms. “You would have figured things out eventually.”
“It’s not just that.” Finch moved one hand to Sarah’s face and rubbed the apple of her cheek with this thumb. “I love that this happened now. That this horrible thing brought such a beautiful person into my life. Sarah, I’m crazy about you. Everything about my past is this messy chaos, but the future seems to clear. Looking at you.”
“Finch, I…”
“Don’t say anything. Not yet.”
The bottoms of his eyes clenched up into a smile. Their breaths synchronized as she waited for whatever this gorgeous man planned to tell her next. I want him, but I don’t know if I’m ready…
“That day,” he said at last. “At the zip line. I should have kissed you. I wanted to kiss you, but—”
“But?” Sarah’s pulse took off at a gallop. Finch was a good man. They could be so good together, if only she could cast all her doubts aside.
Finch cupped her other cheek in his palm and moved so close that his lips brushed hers as he spoke. “I wanted our first kiss to be perfect. But now this whole mess with Eleanor, it’s taught me that things won’t ever be perfect. And, well--”
He crushed his lips to hers in the world’s most perfect kiss. Yes, perfect did exist despite what he’d just said. A million thoughts flooded her mind as his mouth explored hers. That you could crave and fear something at the same time, that you could know and not know, that you could never really turn your thoughts off—and perhaps you shouldn’t.
She’d finally gotten what she’d craved for so long…
And now she felt more confused than ever.
After a bit of patient coaxing, Finch drove with Sarah to Dorma Valley Wine that evening. It was a little out of the way vineyard he’d discovered years ago and knew it would be the perfect place for their first official date.
The proprietress showed them to a small bistro table that sat beneath an overhanging trellis. Gossamer fabric and tiny fairy lights brought the stars closer to the earth as they sipped at their wine and enjoyed matching plates of tortellini. Now that Finch had finally kissed Sarah, he found it difficult to stop and kept rising from his chair to steal little kisses between bites.
“Let me eat,” Sarah said with a laugh, accepting his kiss anyway.
“I just can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said, and it was true. He’d undergo a million public humiliations if they all led him right here—to this night, with this woman.
She rolled her eyes playfully, but her words came out serious. “I’m nothing special.”
Finch rushed to her side and kissed her again. “How could you say that? You are the most incredible, kind, and giving person I’ve ever met.”
She set her fork down and shivered before looking him in the eye and saying, “That’s because, like Eleanor, I have a guilty conscience.”
“I don’t understand.” He felt her pulling away from him both physically and emotionally, desperately wishing he could turn the clock back, give her more time, fix whatever had hurt her.
“She may have stolen all those babies, but I…” Sarah choked back a sob. “I killed someone.”
He fell back on his haunches, just barely catching himself with his palms as he shook his head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible.” He refused to believe this about the woman he was falling in love with, about a woman as gentle and kind as Sarah.
Her eyelids drooped as she spoke, a shield keeping the emotions in and Finch out. “I was twelve, and it was my grandmother. I wasn’t watching her like I should have, and—”
Finch found his footing again and grabbed onto both of her shoulders, forcing her to see him, to see the love and acceptance in his eyes. “Stop right there. You were a child. There’s no way what happened was your fault.”
She shook him off and hugged her arms around herself, and it was in that moment he knew he’d already lost her. “You can say that all you want, but it won’t make it true.”
He refused to give up without first giving it everything he had to offer. This wasn’t just about a relationship between them. This was about Sarah’s relationship with the past—her relationship with herself. She hurt so deeply, and Finch desperately wanted to fix everything for her. “So you dedicated your life to helping the elderly in your grandmother’s honor. That’s noble and a great tribute to her.”
“No, not to remember. To forget and hope for forgiveness.”
“But you’ve given so much to so many. It’s shaped you into this incredible person who helps others.”
“I’m not a person,” she insisted, clenching her eyes shut again. “I’m a shell.”
He pressed his lips to hers, but this time she didn’t respond. “Where is this all coming from?”
She shivered as a chill rippled through the night air, and he wanted to hold her so badly—but every time he reached for her, he felt her moving farther and farther away.
“The thing with Eleanor,” she said at last. “It’s made me realize some things about myself.”
“Stop. You are nothing like her. We all make mistakes. Accidents happen. Life goes on.”
“I wish that were true,” she whispered, picking up her fork again and attempting to eat.
Finch returned to his own chair to give her the space she so clearly craved, but he refused to ignore this. He would not let her shoulder these burdens on her own. He was here now. He could help make things better. If only she’d let him…
“Even if your grandmother’s death was your fault, and I still don’t believe it was, that one thing doesn’t define you,” he insisted, wishing she would look at him, wishing she would smile. “You’re so much more than one thing that happened in the past.”
She shrugged and continued eating. “Just like you’re so much more than Reel Life?”
That one hurt, especially because Finch knew what she was saying was true. Just like her, he’d let his past define him. But unlike her, he hadn’t used it to try to become a better person. He took a deep breath to make sure he had enough strength to say all that needed to be said.
“I never meant to become this social media mogul. I was just a guy that loved photography. One day I had an idea, and before I knew it, it had become this huge thing. I never wanted it, so I sold. And I felt pretty good about that decision until the entire world began to mock me. Seriously, my Google alerts were going crazy. They called me every insult under the sun. All the friends I had made left, and I ended up alone without the work I had poured myself into for so many years and without the passion that had inspired it in the first place. I made bad investments, lost a lot of money. The insults became crueler, but I never wanted all that money to begin with. I never wanted any of it. Until it was gone. Until I saw the alternative.”
