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“You may be old, but you’re not selfish,” Sara returned in a teasing voice.
“Are you all right?”
Sara was taken aback by the sudden and unexpected question. “Why do you ask?”
Katherine’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. “I don’t know, really. You just look tired, as if you didn’t sleep.”
Sara hadn’t, but she didn’t intend to tell her mother that. Her encounter with Clark Garrison had preyed on her mind until the wee hours of the morning. She wondered how he’d fared this morning, if his back remained in place. If not, she was sure she’d know soon enough.
“I’m okay, Mamma. You worry too much.”
“You need a man friend.”
“Oops, now I know it’s time to go.”
“Sorry,” Katherine said.
“No, you’re not, but I guess that’s why I love you.”
Katherine gestured with her hand. “Go on, skedaddle, get out of here.”
Sara was still shaking her head when she passed by Zelma’s room only to stop dead in her tracks and blink. As if he sensed he was being watched, Clark looked toward the door. When he saw her, he stood and walked toward her.
“You look surprised,” he said without preamble.
“I am.”
His mouth tensed. “I told you I came to see my aunt.”
“So you did.”
“She doesn’t seem to be doing all that well.”
“She hasn’t for a long time now.”
He flushed, which meant her barb had hit its mark.
“Look, I know how you feel about me, but—”
“I don’t think you do,” Sara said flatly.
“You know what I meant.”
Though he tried to temper his tone, Sara picked up on his suppressed impatience and anger. It was clear he was out of his element here, and she wasn’t helping any. But he had neglected his aunt, and to her way of thinking, there was no excuse for that. She hadn’t mollycoddled him last night, and she wasn’t about to start now.
“Aren’t you going to ask about my back?”
Sara gave a start at the sudden change in his voice. It seemed lower and somewhat more conciliatory, if not on the intimate side.
Her face suffused with color. “The fact that you’re up and about answers that.”
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