“How’d you get us all figured out so well, Ma?” Cash asked. His tone was joking, like he didn’t believe what Ma had said, but Sean knew his brother. That hope and longing in his eyes, that was the truth.
“Oh, we foster moms talked,” Ma said. “We practically had a hotline going, trying to raise you three right. Just ask your other moms sometime,” she added to Liam and Cash, and then looked back at Sean. “As for you—just know what color lenses you’re looking through. Ask yourself if you’re seeing clearly. Especially when you’re looking at that sweet woman and her daughters.”
“I saw what I saw,” Sean said, knowing he sounded just like the stubborn teenager he’d once been, sitting at this very table.
“Your eyes have been blurry before. Wait here.” She headed toward the back of the house, gesturing toward Pudge to join her.
They ate cake and helped themselves to more. “Listen to your ma,” Cash said to him. “Out of all of us, it’s you who tends to jump first and ask questions later. Remember when Liam was getting bullied?”
Liam scowled at Cash. “Or how about when you got in trouble selling ramen noodles at a five hundred percent profit?”
“I was selling convenience,” Cash said with an easy smile.
Sean remembered that same smile when Sean had beaten up the kid who’d ratted Cash out.
Ma returned and plunked down a box.
Sean’s stomach tightened. Their mementos. “Thought I put that in the burn bin.”
“I pulled it back out,” Pudge said.
“You boys have little enough of your past,” Ma added. “I wasn’t going to have you destroying what you do have.”
Sean looked at the box, complete with one charred, blackened flap. Maybe he did jump first and think later; maybe that was why all his relationships got destroyed.
He thought of Anna’s face, tight with betrayal. The hurt in the twins’ slumped shoulders.
“Figuring things out is the first clue to fixing it,” Ma said. “I think you boys should go through this together.”
“I wouldn’t mind.” Liam looked intrigued, like the investigator he was.
As Liam started to pull out that wretched old photo, though, Sean grabbed his arm and pushed the object back into the box. “I’ll do it later.”
Liam didn’t get mad, as Sean would have expected. Welcomed, even. “Listen, buddy, you helped us. Let us help you.”
“I’ll go through it later,” Sean said.
Cash lifted an eyebrow. “You gonna burn it again? That’s our history, too, you know.”
“I won’t burn it,” he said, and practically groaned. Having made that promise, he’d have to keep it.
“I remember the day we lost Mom,” Cash said unexpectedly. “It was like she knew it was going to happen.”
“Did you ever think maybe she did know? Planned it out, even?”
Liam looked at him, astonished. “You mean planned to leave us here? She would never have done that.”
Cash nodded agreement. “I don’t think so, either. It’s not her you should be mad at, bro. It’s him.”
They all went silent, remembering the father who’d abused them and their mother so horribly.
Whose genes they all bore, and when the conversation halted right there, Sean figured that was in all of their minds.
He’d never used his fists on a woman, wouldn’t dream of it. None of them would, or at least, he prayed not.
But there was no doubt he’d hurt Anna and her girls, badly. Was that how their father’s blood came out in him? In inflicting hurt with cold withdrawal, rather than with blows that left physical bruises?
Enough thinking. He tuned Ma’s old television to a baseball game, spring training, and dished them all out more cake. Part of their birthday tradition was that the three of them ate the whole thing.
This year, Sean tried to be nice and give a piece to Pudge, but he waved it away. “Too much sugar,” he said.
“Why don’t you talk to Anna?” Cash said out of nowhere, after they’d watched the game awhile. “Give her at least a chance to explain. She looked pretty upset.”
“Don’t be the same knucklehead you always were,” Liam said. “Anna’s way better than Gabby.”
Suddenly the little cabin was too oppressive for Sean. He kissed Ma on the cheek, shook Pudge’s hand and hit both of his brothers on the shoulders, friendly-like. They were making him think more than he wanted to.
And all the thinking led to one conclusion: he’d hurt Anna and the girls. No matter what free choices Anna might have made about Rafael or anything else in her life, she didn’t deserve that after all she’d been through. And the girls were innocent victims.
When you screwed up that badly, there was only one thing to do. He swung the box to his shoulder and headed out to his truck. Maybe, just maybe, he’d see if Anna was home. Apologize, at least.
Tonight, before he lost his nerve.
* * *
AFTER SHE CLOSED the door on her sleeping girls, Anna looked around her quiet cabin. Even though the dog lay curled up beside the chair she usually sat in, a chill started at the base of her spine and crawled to her neck and back down again.
She shook it off, turned on an extra lamp and sat down. She’d read her library book, that was what she’d do.
Except what had she been thinking, checking out a thriller about a woman living alone in an isolated forest? She read a paragraph and then slammed the book shut, her stomach churning.
Had there been someone in the river when she’d left Ma Dixie’s? Someone outside her car?
Had Beau found her? Was there some other creepy person who’d realized she was a woman with kids, alone?
The dog got up, shook restlessly and uttered one sharp bark.
Her breath came faster. She wanted to close the curtains, but she was afraid to approach the windows. Her heart was ready to race out of her chest.
Too anxious to feel shy about it, Anna made a phone call.
* * *
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, there was a light tap on the cabin door. Yasmin’s voice: “Anna?”
Anna opened the door and the sight of Yasmin’s friendly, concerned face was a huge relief. “Come on in.”
“Are you okay? Are the girls okay?”
Anna nodded. “Yes, they’re asleep. Thanks so much for coming.” She gestured Yasmin inside and waved a hand. “Sit down. Can I get you some tea?”
“Tea sounds good if it’s decaf. I haven’t been sleeping real well.”
Two minutes later they were seated kitty-corner from each other on the cabin’s two most comfortable seats, cups of tea steaming on an end table between them.
“Want to tell me what’s up?” Yasmin asked.
Anna felt heat creeping up her face. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I just had this creepy feeling. Felt like someone was watching me, following me, and I figured you’d understand.”
“Better than most. Tell me what’s got you spooked.”
So Anna explained about the lights and noises out at Ma Dixie’s. “It was probably just some night fishermen, but the dog got really upset and, well, so did I.”
“Understandable. Do you think it was your ex?”
Anna stared at her. “I’m surprised you’d go there right away.”
“I work in domestic abuse,” Yasmin said. “It’s the first thing that comes into my mind. Do you think he’s around?”
“I do and I don’t,” Anna said. “At first I thought he was the one vandalizing the cabin and my car, but then that turned out to be Brandi, most likely.”
Yasmin sighed. “Yeah. I heard she might get off on the charges if she agrees to do counseling.”
“That might work,” Anna said doubtfully, thinking of the rageful woman she’d met and the destructive, hurtful vandalism. “Anyway, I thought he wou
ldn’t come here, but lately...like I said, I got the creeps.”
“I believe in paying attention to your intuition,” Yasmin said. “I’ve got my overnight bag in my car, and I’m glad to stay here if it’ll make you more comfortable.”
Anna felt embarrassed for bothering the poised, professional woman, but the thought of the company filled her with relief. “I would be so, so grateful,” she said. “But it’s way beyond the pale. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Anna.” Yasmin reached out and touched her arm lightly, which stopped Anna’s words in her mouth. “It’s okay to need help and to ask for it. I want to be your friend.”
Anna stared at the woman for a minute and tears pushed the backs of her eyes. She could count on one hand the number of times someone had reached out to her so kindly.
Yasmin, perceptive, seemed to see. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Anna took a deep steadying breath. “I just...haven’t had a lot of that, that’s all.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Anna opened her mouth to say her automatic “No!” and then shut it. This, sharing yourself with others, was the way to be close and part of a community. She’d made a small start at doing that, with Miss Vi. And maybe another one with Rafael.
The biggest, of course, was with Sean and that had backfired.
But Yasmin wasn’t Sean, and she wasn’t Beau.
“I just grew up without a lot of friends,” she said, stumbling a little with the unfamiliarity of talking about herself. “My dad...well, he had a hard time getting it together after my mom died. He moved us around a lot, trying to find work.”
“Was he the one who abused you?”
Anna shook her head, not even questioning why Yasmin knew about her abuse. “That was my husband, the twins’ dad.”
“Pay attention to your instincts,” Yasmin said. “Lock your doors and keep an eye out. Angry abusers are no joke.”
Yasmin’s voice was passionate. “Personal experience?” Anna asked. “Or just professional?”
“Both,” Yasmin said grimly. “I’ve seen a lot at the shelter, but I have a...personal stake.”
As if knowing they needed a distraction, Blackie came up and put his nose on Yasmin’s lap. The woman laughed and petted him as he was begging her to do. “My sweet little Josie girl—she was my fifteen-year-old Chihuahua—just died two months ago.”
“You’ve had a hard time of it.” Anna felt a little better about inviting Yasmin over. The other woman seemed to need a friend, as well.
They drank more tea and talked, and when Anna mentioned working on her résumé, Yasmin offered to take a look. So Anna got her laptop and showed her what she’d written, and they talked about ways to make it stronger.
“I’d hate to see you leave Safe Haven,” Yasmin said, still scratching Blackie’s neck. “Any reason you couldn’t stay in the area, if you found something suitable?”
Anna hesitated. “I’d like to stay,” she said, “except...” Involuntarily, she glanced in the direction of Sean’s cabin.
“Except for Sean O’Dwyer.” Yasmin seemed to know exactly what Anna meant. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to have a man in town you’re at odds with.”
Anna lifted an eyebrow.
Yasmin looked at her, then away, then nodded. “Liam and I had a...thing.”
“And it’s over now?”
“Very. But Safe Haven is a small town, so nothing’s ever really over.” She brushed her hands together as if washing them of her whole history. “Anyway. I’m glad I looked at your résumé. I might be working on one, myself. Thinking about making a change.”
Suddenly, Blackie started barking, and a loud knock on the door made them both tense.
“Anna!” came Sean’s voice. Annoyingly loud, and it was also annoying the relief she felt. What kind of a girlie wimp was she?
“I’ll get the dog and close the girls’ door,” Yasmin said.
“Thanks.” Anna stalked over to the door and pulled it open. “What?”
“I just wanted to apologize,” he said, making no pretense that he wasn’t looking past her into the cabin. When he saw Yasmin, his shoulders relaxed.
Anger rose in her. “Listen, Sean,” she said, low but hot, “checking on me to see what company I have is not cool. I’m a free woman.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “And mostly, I’m sorry I was so cold to you and the girls. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just...” He looked off to the side as if trying to figure out what to say. “I just have some issues, but I’m sorry they caused pain to you and the twins.”
She wanted to believe his words. But he hadn’t said he wanted to be close again, just that he was sorry his distance had hurt. The thought of getting together with him and being hurt again was terrifying. “I’m fine.” She heard the stiffness in her own voice. “Working on ways to get out of Safe Haven.” She shut the door in his face, gently, but not before she’d seen the white, tight, stricken look of it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SEAN COULDN’T MAKE himself go directly back to his cabin. He had way too much energy.
So he strode down to the beach and walked. And walked, and walked some more. Listened to the waves crashing against the shore, and felt like his emotions were crashing and churning right along with them.
Why had he acted so caveman jealous around Anna?
Why was she leaving, and where was she going, and would she and the girls be okay once they got there?
He caught a piece of driftwood and threw it into the water, hard. A couple of shells and sea-polished rocks followed.
Why had he pushed them away, made her unwilling to be close to him?
What was wrong with him?
That was what it came down to: there was something wrong with him. He’d always known it, but Ma’s wise words had given him a reason why. His mother’s leaving had scarred him.
So it wasn’t just about him protecting others from his own bad blood. It was him being afraid, afraid of being left.
He hated to admit such a wimpy way of thinking, even to himself, but admitting it was the only way he could start to heal. Now, for the first time in his life, he was truly motivated to change. He wanted to be able to be close to Anna. To protect her and—he swallowed as he realized it—to love her.
He walked a while longer, thinking about his family, reaching for faith that he could change.
When he arrived back at his cabin, he remembered the box of mementos from the past. Before, he’d tried to burn them.
But Ma had said they were important, and now he’d promised his brothers that he wouldn’t destroy them. Moreover, he felt a slight pull of curiosity. He went and got them out of his truck.
He picked through the photos and papers, and as he did, his chest began to ache. They’d had happy days with their mom, before the terror had started.
He studied a picture that showed him and Liam fishing with their mom. They all loved fishing now, especially him and Liam, and this was where it had come from: their mom. She’d looked happy about it, too, holding a big fish up for Liam, while Sean grinned beside her with an even-bigger fish of his own. Cash had undoubtedly snapped the picture; he’d never liked getting his hands dirty.
He leaned closer to study his mother. She was pretty, slim, with long hair, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt. A lump rose to his throat as he remembered how much he’d loved her, and how awful it had felt not to be able to protect her.
Not to be able to save her, that last time.
He thrust the photo away and dug on through. When he unearthed a devotional book and cross necklace, that brought up the fact that they’d used to go to church together. Not with their father present, not ever, but somehow his mother had gotten three young boys acceptably dressed and over to the little church down the road from their house. She hadn’t mingled a lot; t
hey hadn’t gone to Sunday school or Bible school or activities, but she’d made them sit in a row and pay attention.
Ma Dixie had done the same, when he’d come to live with her. She’d dragged her motley crew of foster kids to church every Sunday. He grinned to remember the ear-pinch technique she’d used to keep them quiet, his hand going to his own ear in remembered pain. You’d only had to experience it once, and you sat up straight and at least pretended to listen to the sermon.
At the bottom of the box was a dictionary. He pulled it out and more memories came. His mother had loved words. She’d made up games where they had to guess a definition. If they’d ever asked what something meant in a school reading, she hadn’t answered, but rather had sent them to this book.
Later, when he’d moved in at Ma Dixie’s and gone into his near-delinquent stage, he’d shoved the dictionary into the box and forgotten about it. Now he flipped through, looking at the tiny illustrations and remembering how he’d studied them as a young boy.
He kept flipping and came to an envelope. They must have used it as a bookmark. He pulled it out.
His heart stopped.
On the front was written three names: Sean, Cash and Liam.
In their mother’s handwriting.
* * *
SEAN ARRIVED LATE to the Southern Comfort Café the next morning, his steps slow and heavy, his truck exerting an almost-magnetic pull to keep him away from the place.
Normally, when he met his brothers, Sean was first to arrive.
Today, he’d barely made it at all.
As expected, the others gave him a hard time about being late.
“What’s got you in a mood?” Liam asked.
“You look like crap,” Cash added.
Sean slouched into the booth, banging his knee on the too-low table, glancing around at the usual crowd, inhaling the scent of coffee and pancakes. “Anna’s leaving town,” he growled. “And this.” He slapped the envelope onto the table.
“What is it?” Cash grabbed the envelope and pulled out the handwritten letter inside.
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