Confrontations

Pearl went back to her bedroom and opened the file she had on the volatile hand ball player Sahara Cortiz.

Sahara was the top scoring handball player Brazil had had on the national team in nearly a decade. Her temper had gotten her in trouble quite a few times in the past and it had only gotten worse when an injury to her ham string had taken her out of competition for the rest of the season.

Pearl had stayed with her for two weeks about three months ago in her capacity as a counselling coach. She was supposed to help Sahara with both the emotional and physical frustration of losing out during a successful season. Working alongside her physiotherapist, Pearl had been called to rehabilitate Sahara.

They were also supposed to have worked on her temper and the possible root of the problem. But none of Pearl's objectives had been met with this particular client.

Everything had started off well. The initial assessment had been complete within a week. Sahara wanted to recover as soon as possible, so she'd been cooperative. That was until her husband had returned from a business trip.

At first Pearl hadn't noticed anything particularly alarming, thinking it was a part of the athlete's character. But it soon became clear that Sahara didn't act the same when her husband was around. She hardly gave Pearl a chance to talk when Lincoln Cortiz was in the session or in the room. She would brush off everything Pearl said with a false laugh and a breezy "Okay, okay, I know."

In the beginning, Pearl thought she was simply deflecting and trying to avoid going into issues but it didn't take long for her to see the trend.

One day, Pearl had suggested carefully that the two women have a session away from the house. Sahara had agreed readily.

Before they'd driven ten minutes out, Sahara had spoken. "We can shed the pretences now, yes?"

Pearl had stifled a sigh. "What do you want to say, Sahara?"

"Stop trying to flirt with my husband," the athlete bit out.

"Pardon me?"

"It won't work," she insisted coolly. "I've seen your type before, you think you can win my husband away from me because you're pretty and educated?"

"You clearly know nothing about me if you think that's what I'm up to."

"You want to hide behind the fact that you work for a Christian organization? That doesn't change anything, Pearl. Behind that little angel act I know your type."

At that point, Pearl had sighed. Then she'd turned the car around. "I'll respect your wishes and stay away from your husband."

Sahara had leaned back, satisfied.

"But since he's your manager and has required updates on your progress that poses a problem."

"How do you think so?"

"It means I will be staying away from you too," Pearl said briskly, putting the car in park, undoing her seat belt. "We'll send another performance coach as soon as one becomes available."

Getting out of the car, Sahara had scrambled after Pearl as fast as she could.

"You can't leave!"

"Well, I am," Pearl had told her simply.

"But the national coach asked for you specifically."

"Whoever I send will be my personal recommendation," came the firm, placid response.

Sahara was clearly trying not to panic. "You don't understand!"

Pearl stopped outside the door to her room. "I understand fully, Sahara. You might have thought this through before you accused me of trying to seduce your husband." Pearl pursed her lips and breathed through her nose until she was calm. Sahara had frowned but before she'd had a chance to say anything Pearl had opened her mouth and said "I'm leaving. That's the end of it. You won't have to worry about your husband anymore."

Pearl had gotten on the next flight back to LA and hadn't spoken to Sahara since.

Now she sighed, thinking of how she was back in Brazil to finish the job.

Monty had agreed to putting her up in her own house so that her interaction with Sahara was limited to the coaching sessions as opposed to the common approach of the coach living with the athlete for full exposure. Beth had been the one who had set up the lunch meeting with Sahara so the two of them still hadn't spoken since Pearl's abrupt departure.

She'd convinced Jesse during their picnic to be her buffer because Sahara had offended her and she was sure she wasn't looking forward to being with the handball player again. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, Pearl closed her eyes and asked God to put her in the right space to deal with Sahara professionally.

Jesse got back to the house just in time to see Pearl pulling her hair into a ponytail, in front of the mirror in the hallway.

"I take it you're not ready yet?"

Pearl turned in surprise. "I am, pretty much. You're back early."

Jesse made a face. "Not really. The lecture finished an hour ago. I spent a bit of time chatting with the other doctors, then I told them I had somewhere I needed to be for a while."

"And they just let you go?"

"Well, I'm a guest. They couldn't say no." Pause. "Not when I have a patient to escort," he grinned.

Pearl threw her hands up as, Jesse now knew, she often did when she was frustrated or annoyed. "Really? You played the emergency card?"

Jesse stared at her and then burst out laughing. "No, Pearl. No! I didn't call you an emergency. I just said who I was going to lunch with and Helena put in that you were the patient that I went to go see in Bolivia."

Pearl couldn't help chuckle when she heard the inflection put on the word 'patient'. "Oh. Am I not your patient?"

"Have you ever paid me anything?" he countered. "No. You are a friend who just happened to need a doctor, so you were lucky I was there."

Pearl looked at him and he looked back at her, a slight smile on his face.

Shaking her head she said, "You make it so hard for me not to believe you."

"Why would I lie?" he countered charmingly, steering her away from the mirror. "You look great, now let's go."

"Okay, okay! No need to push me."

"I know you'd love to prolong the moment before you see this woman, but I'd rather you get it over and done with. I still see that look of dread lurking in your eyes."

Pearl picked up her purse from the small hallway table, laughing once again. "There's nothing lurking in my eyes."

"There so is."

Jesse and Pearl got to the restaurant early, just as he'd been hoping they might. That meant the two of them had time for a drink alone before Pearl's client arrived. Within minutes Jesse had Pearl laughing and completely relaxed. After a particularly funny story, Pearl wiped her eyes and chuckled. Then she stopped and looked over at Jesse.

Placing a small manicured hand on his, she said, "Thank you for coming with me."

Jesse's smile widened and he placed his other hand on top of hers. "Thank you for asking me. I am glad to be of help."

Just as Jesse was marvelling about the feel of her hand in his, Pearl's smile faltered and she gently tugged her hand out his light grasp.

Before he could ask, Pearl said, "She's here."

He wanted to reach for her hand again but he decided against it. He gave her a reassuring smile instead and turned his head to see if he could spot the athlete.

She was hard to miss.

Sahara Cortiz was wearing a long maxi dress that floated about with every lithe step forward. The peach colour of the dress was attractive against her endless tan. Jesse noticed that as the thigh high slit on her dress fell open as she navigated smoothly around a table. He heard Pearl sigh softly just before she stood up to greet her celebrity client.

"Hello, Sahara, I'm glad you could make it on time."

Sahara took Pearl's outstretched hand and shook it once, half her attention on Jesse.

He stood up too and Cortiz cautiously glanced over at Pearl while Jesse introduced himself.

"Jesse Murray."

"Hello, Mr Murray. I'm Mrs Cortiz. Or Sahara," she shrugged with a slight smile.

Jesse nodded and motioned for both women to sit down. Once they were seated Pearl took over. She asked if Sahara wanted anything to drink. The athlete opted for fruit juice.

As soon as that was done, Pearl asked questions about Sahara's recovery since they'd last seen each other. Jesse knew Pearl had all the medical information already. She just wanted to see how much the handball player would tell her willingly.

Sahara told her, starting a bit reluctantly. Her leg was almost completely recovered. Her working relationships hadn't suffered as much as she'd initially feared they might. It seemed some of her team mates actually liked her.

That revelation made Pearl smile slightly. All she did was nod and Sahara continued telling her about her communication with her coaches. When she trailed off into silence Pearl sat back and looked at her.

After a pause, she asked, "What about your working relationship with Mr Cortiz?"

Sahara's hand jerked once on the table and her eyes met Pearl's, anger clear in her gaze. "I'm not going to talk about him with you!"

Pearl said nothing. One perfectly arched eyebrow rose and she looked back at her client. Sahara turned her face away, still not saying anything.

Jesse watched Pearl wait for a while. He didn't say anything to Sahara, who was staring off somewhere beyond his shoulder. He simply waited too.

Pearl moved next. She picked up her pen and capped it. Sahara returned her attention to her performance coach and watched the woman calmly close her little notebook.

"So that's the end of the assessment, Sahara. Beth will call you and then we'll move forward from there."

"What?" Sahara's eyes widened.

Pearl leaned back and smiled politely. "I'll see you after Beth's next phone call."

Sahara Cortiz stared at Pearl Guthrie in stunned silence and then stood up, murmuring her goodbyes.

Jesse watched her float out of the restaurant the same way she'd come in and then turned back to Pearl. It surprised him to find her looking straight at him.

"You did good," he said, softly, reaching for her hand.

She let him, actually squeezing back gently to express her gratitude.

"Do you still want to order food or you want to go home?"

Pearl's eyes searched his for a moment and then she smiled. "Let's enjoy the nice weather. We should definitely eat here."

Jesse smiled back and nodded. Letting go of Pearl's hand, he signalled a waiter.