Page 47 of Clashing Moon
“Great. Lead the way,” Rafferty said. “But fair warning, I am not a Steelers fan.”
As the men exited the room, I heard Rafferty say something about a quarterback injury and Michael answering back about a rookie substitution.
“Do you want to sit?” Sally asked me, gesturing toward the couch.
“Yes, thanks. Your home’s lovely.” This room was feminine and pretty, with a sage-green couch and white chairs set around a gas fireplace. Every vase and piece of artwork on the walls seemed specifically picked. Did Sally have a gift for decorating, or did she hire someone? So many questions.
“Did you decorate yourself?” I asked.
“Sort of. I have a good friend who’s a set designer. She helped me.”
Set designer? Did that mean she was still involved in the theater?
We settled in the matching chairs, divided by a sleek black coffee table. I crossed my legs and hooked one ankle behind my opposite calf at the exact time my mother did the same. She must have noticed, too, because we shared a chuckle.
“In your box—there were clippings from the newspaper about the school plays,” I said.
“Oh, yes. I kept everything from those days.”
“Did you ever pursue acting?” I asked. Wait until I told her Annie Armstrong was married to Atticus.
“Yes. In fact, I founded a small theater here in Missoula. We started small, but now we’re quite well-known. I’m the artistic director. We have two stages, so we have multiple productions going at once. You’d be surprised at the talent here.”
“I thought you worked with addicts?” I asked.
“That’s my other passion, but I only volunteer. When I married Jacob, he encouraged me to pursue my dreams and actually funded the theater the first few years.”
“What does he do?” I asked, curious.
“He’s a doctor. Oncologist here at one of our big hospitals.”
Doctor. Like Rafferty. Interesting coincidence.
Sally seemed to be thinking along the same lines. “I know, it’s weird, isn’t it? Are you together or just friends?”
I launched into the whole story, starting with our rivalry and ending with the snowstorm and finding my father dead. “It’s hard to explain, but something shifted that night we were alone. I was frightened and worried and guilty, you know. He was so strong and thoughtful. Brave, too. I saw him in a whole new way. So, we’re new. But not new at the same time.”
“I can see how you feel about him by the sparkle in your eyes.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him,” I whispered conspiratorially.
“He seems like a catch to me despite your former rivalry.”
Prickles went down my arms. The way she looked at me as if I were the most special person in the world made me feel like a cherished daughter. A daughter who could tell her mother anything and know she would listen without judgment, delighted by my every word. Like Stella with her sons. I’d never experienced that kind of parental love. Not that I could remember, anyway.
“I can’t believe this is really happening,” I said.
“I can’t either,” Sally said, laughing through tears. “You’ve no idea how many times I wished for this. Thank you for reaching out. For being willing to give me a chance.”
“After I learned the truth, I would have fought hard to find you. I was worried you wouldn’t be at the same number. Or that I’d find out you were no longer with us. It took me a whole day to convince myself to try the number, but finally decided it was better to know what happened. Either way.”
“I kept that number all these years. Just in case.”
“I’m glad you did,” I said.
“All right, tell me everything. I want to know as much as you’re willing to share.”
“Where do we start?” I asked. “There’s a lot to cover.”