She smoothed her hands down her shirt. “First, don’t call me weak. Just because I try to show people kindness and I’m not a grumpy bastard like you, doesn’t mean I’m weak.”
“You tell him, sister.” Sarah grabbed a potato chip from Connor’s bowl and popped it in her mouth.
Their dad swore, and a piece of muffler clanked to the garage floor.
Brad grabbed a wrench from the work bench and limped over to hand it to him. “You’re going to bust the damn axle if you’re not careful.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Their dad grunted but accepted the new tool.
Sarah narrowed her eyes. She wouldn’t be dismissed. Not by her younger brother. “Secondly, you don’t have the right to tell me whether I should have a relationship with Harry.”
“He’s a bum.”
“How would you know? You haven’t said two words to him.” She held up a hand. She wasn’t here to defend Harry. She didn’t know if she could. “Look, what you do with him is up to you. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to get to know Harry, but that’s your decision.” And she’d tried to force that decision on him a couple of times. Her shoulders rounded. “I’m sorry that I pushed you when you weren’t ready.”
Brad ground his jaw. “It’s not a question of ready. I don’t want to meet him. That’s not going to change.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll respect that.”
“Ah, don’t back down now, Sarah Beth.” Connor smacked Joe’s hand away as it snaked toward the chip bowl. “You had him on the ropes and now you’re giving up.”
Joe elbowed his twin in the ribs. “Leave it between them,” he said. “And I bought those chips.”
“Where’s the fun—”
“But,” Sarah said loudly, “you need to respect my choices, too. You come to my house to tell me everything I’m doing wrong, you won’t be invited back for a while. Got it?”
She stared him down. His whiskey eyes narrowed, and she didn’t think he’d agree to the détente.
Metal squeaked against metal, and more cursing erupted from the center of the car’s frame.
Brad turned his scowl on their dad. “Jesus, if you strip those bolts that thing will fall apart the first time you drive it.”
“Brad…” Her voice held a hint of warning. And a plea.
He jerked his head in a short nod. “Fine. We both make our own choices.”
“And respect them?”
The driver’s door fell to the floor. Brad groaned. “Yes, fine. I’ll stop sniping at you. Now are we done talking? I have a rescue operation to launch.” He swung his bum leg over the frame and nudged their dad aside. He pried a rubber mallet out of his hand. “You’re killing me here. You can’t just go banging on it. You need finesse.”
“That’s what she said,” Connor quipped, earning a glare from Ellie.
Brad hunkered down and gave their dad his phone to hold as a flashlight. He focused on reattaching a bolt.
Sarah knew that was all she’d get from him. And from Brad, it was enough.
Leaning over the frame, she dropped a kiss on her dad’s forehead. “Don’t kill each other,” she said.
Joe trailed her out of the garage to her car. “You’re not going to stay and eat with us?”
“Sorry. Too much to do today.”
He took her elbow and turned her to face him. “Brad’s not the only one worried about Harry. You’ve spent time with him now. We know he was a deadbeat twenty-five years ago. Has he changed?”
Her lips twisted. “Not as much as I’d hoped, but it’s okay.” She squeezed his arm. “He is who he is. I don’t have to let it affect me. I’m heading home right now to tell him it’s time he left.”
Joe tossed an arm around her shoulders and reeled her in. “I’m proud of you, sis. Want me to come with you?”
She smiled against his shirt. “I’m good.”
And she was. Each small act of bravery made the next one easier. For the first time in her life, she was asserting herself. Taking control.
Her smile dimmed. If only James were around to see it.
But one thing she’d learned early in life: you don’t always get what you want.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Another round?” The bartender at The Rusty Nail had been trying to cheer James and his dad up all night. Her perkiness only irritated James further. But she had the unerring ability to know when he was down to his last swallow.
He pushed the empty bottle of beer forward and nodded. “Dad?”
His father scraped at his half-full bottle’s label. “Naw, I’m good.”
James wanted to snort at that. Or cry. Nothing about his father was good. He’d taken his dad back to the doctor and had the woman lay out everything that was going wrong in his dad’s body.
Which had led them here. Beer probably wasn’t great for a person with his dad’s conditions, but at this point, it didn’t matter. He’d let the man enjoy whatever the hell he wanted.
He accepted a new bottle from the bartender and lowered his gaze before she could launch into another attempt at conversation. When she’d drifted away, he turned to his dad. “We need to make plans.”
Oswald scraped a hand over his stubbled jaw. “What’s to plan? I’m going to keep living how I’m living for as long as God gives me.”
James clenched his beer. “It doesn’t work like that, Dad. We need to figure out your care. Make—”
An estate plan. Figure out your wishes for a burial. But James didn’t say that. Couldn’t say that. Not right now. Not when the knowledge was still too fresh.
Oswald’s barstool squeaked as he turned to face James. “Boy, you’ve done more than I’ve ever expected, coming up here like this to help. But I don’t expect you to play nursemaid for the next couple of months. I want you to live your life. Enjoy yourself.” He laid a wrinkled hand over James’s. “Go home. You’ve done enough.”
James’s lungs squeezed. He stared at his father’s hand. The hand that had taught him how to throw a baseball. That had ruffled his hair when he’d been small. James laid his other hand over his father’s and held it tight.
“I’m not leaving you, Dad. Not after this. Did you really think I would?” Did Sarah? Sure, he’d reacted badly when he’d heard the news a couple nights ago, but she had to know he wouldn’t really leave.
Jesus, was he such a bastard people thought he’d turn his back on his father when he was…?
He grabbed his beer bottle and took a long swallow. “I’m not leaving. We’ll figure something out. I’ll come up with a plan.”
“You know what they say about the best laid plans.” His dad shot him a rueful smile. “Life doesn’t move in a straight line. It throws curves. Plans don’t always work.”
Life throws curves. If that wasn’t the truest thing his dad had ever said, he didn’t know what was. Ever since James had been notified of his dad’s heart attack, his life had been one surprise after another.
Sarah was a curve. A good one. But, surprise, he’d screwed that up, too.
“Don’t worry. I make back-up plans for my back-up plans.” James rolled his shoulders. “We’ll make this work.”
His dad held up his hands. “Okay. I never could tell you what to do. Always were a stubborn fool.” But the edges of his eyes crinkled. He looked happier than James could remember seeing him. All because James had decided to stick around.
His dad took another sip of beer. “Just remember. You could be hit by a bus tomorrow, too. You just never know what life will bring you, or how it will end. So don’t go feeling sorry for me.”
James huffed out a chuckle. “Shelter Bay doesn’t have any buses.”
“We used to,” a deep voice boomed. “An old British bus Rockhead Brewery had bought as a tourist gimmick.”
James turned to find Robert Martineau standing behind him, holding a bag of take-out food. He offered the man his hand. “Hello, Mr. Martineau
. Good to see you.”
“Call me Robert.” He patted Oswald’s shoulder. “Perfect timing running into you two. Sarah was going to have Conner call you, Oswald, but since I’m here.” He shrugged. “The fire station could use some help. They’ve been looking to get a dog for the station but haven’t had any luck yet. Sarah thought Ginger would be perfect for the job.”
“Ginger?” Oswald looked at the floor like he expected to find the border collie at his feet.
“Every fire station needs a dog,” Robert said. “It’s good for morale. Of course, you’d need to be there with her. She’s your dog. But Connor was hoping you’d be willing to put in a couple of hours helping out around the station. It is a volunteer station here in Shelter Bay. We can always use more help.”
James slid his eyes shut. He couldn’t quite figure out the feeling in his chest. It was like he’d been thrown a lifeline.
He nodded at Robert. Gratitude, that was what the feeling was. The offer would give James some free hours to work without paying for a nurse they couldn’t afford, all while making his dad feel useful. Not like he was being taken care of.
And it had been Sarah’s idea. Even when he acted like an ass, she still went out of her way to help him and his father.
She was the loveliest curve of all.
And he’d ruined things with her.
Robert was giving Connor’s number to his dad when James blurted, “How’s Sarah? Is she…doing okay?”
“Well, she’s alone again in her house, so that’s certainly an improvement.” Robert gave him a measured look. “But I don’t expect that’s what you were asking about.”
She’d gotten rid of Harry? That was good news, but he almost regretted it. The old Sarah would have taken James back. This new Sarah, the one who stood up for herself, well, he’d have to earn it.
“I messed up with your daughter, sir.” How could he have ever thought he belonged in San Francisco when Sarah was here? Home was wherever she was, even if that was Shelter Bay, California. He had work friends, a gym he loved, and his choice of restaurants in the city, but here he’d have someone to come home to. Someone to curl up on the couch with, argue with and then make it up to her.
Here he’d have Sarah, and that was worth any trade-off.
But how much worse would it be living here if he couldn’t get Sarah back? He swallowed. “I messed up, and I don’t know if I’ll get a second chance.” Or if he deserved one.
Robert was quiet for a moment. Finally, “One of my daughter’s best qualities is her ability to forgive. Just make sure you don’t abuse it, or you’ll be answering to me.” One last clap to Oswald’s back, one stern nod to James, and Robert Martineau sauntered out of The Rusty Nail with his dinner.
James sucked in a deep breath. Would she take him back? Would she even want to hear his apology?
“You serious about the doc?” his dad asked.
“Yeah.” A sliver of optimism slipped through his veins. He wasn’t going anywhere, not now. He had time to work his magic. “Yeah, I’m very serious about her.”
A wide grin creased his dad’s face. “Well, I never thought I’d see the day. My boy in love.”
James shifted. His relationship with his dad was improving, but he didn’t know if he wanted to talk about love with him. Or anyone really. No one but Sarah.
He cleared his throat. “Like I said, I screwed up big. Said some things I shouldn’t have.”
“So what are you going to do about it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “What do you think I should do? How did you apologize to Mom?”
“If you screwed up big then you apologize big.” His dad tapped his hand on the bar. “Go big or go home, as they say.”
Go big…
James drummed his fingers on the bar. Go big. He blinked. The edges of his mouth tipped up. It was pretty crazy. Stupid, no doubt. But it just might get Sarah back into his arms, and solve one of her problems at the same time. A win-win.
“I have an idea,” he began, “but I’m going to need some help.”
His dad slapped his shoulder. “Lay it on me, boy. That’s what I’m here for.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sarah shooed the seagull away. It was eyeing her roast beef sandwich with a little too much interest. “Go find your own lunch.”
Cassie laughed, pushing her wind-whipped hair off her face. “Are you sure you don’t want the cats to kill the birds?”
“The birds are fine.” She flapped her hand, and the seagull flew off the arm rail of their bench. “As long as they keep their beaks off my food.”
She and Cass were seated halfway down the cliff trail at their favorite spot, a wide wooden bench with the best view of the Pacific in Shelter Bay.
“I can’t believe you kicked him out.” Cassie adjusted her sunglasses. “I’m so proud of you.”
Sarah tipped her face up to the sun. “It was a pretty great feeling watching him drive away. Not that I don’t want to see Harry again,” she added. “I do. Just…more on my own schedule.” There had been no sweeter sight than seeing her bio dad’s taillights disappear down her driveway.
Her house was her own again. And it had only cost her a couple hundred bucks.
She bit into her sandwich. Okay, so she hadn’t gotten him out of her house completely scot-free. She couldn’t have him running out of gas on his way home, after all. And he’d pointed out that he’d need a hotel for one night during the long drive.
But she’d held firm on not paying any money for his rent. She wasn’t going to become hard as nails overnight. Baby steps were needed. But she’d done it. She’d taken an action knowing it would disappoint someone because it was the right thing to do.
And Harry had agreed to her visiting him in the future. He still wanted to see her. She hadn’t lost that burgeoning relationship.
Her roast beef turned to dust in her mouth thinking about the relationship she had lost. She set her sandwich next to her on a brown paper bag and sighed.
“You should call him,” Cassie said.
“Who? Harry? We can wait a bit before talking again.”
Cass dropped her chin and peered at her over her sunglasses. “You know who. He’d just received a huge shock. That doesn’t excuse what he said—”
“That I’m a weak, pathetic person just a step above a doormat?” Those weren’t his exact words, but she needed to remind herself why she was so angry.
“—BUT it should earn a chance to explain himself.”
Sarah scowled. “Why should I call him? He should call me if he wants to explain. If I reached out first, it would just prove to him I am the doormat he thinks.”
Cassie threw a bit of her crust to the gull. “Maybe it’s good that one person in a relationship is willing to give a little. I don’t see couples working out if both of them are bull-headed fools.” She rubbed her throat. “You need yin and yang. That’s why B—”
Sarah shot her a curious glance.
Cassie smiled brightly. “I think that’s why some of my past relationships didn’t work. I picked men too similar to me. But you and James, you complement each other well.”
Sarah’s phone chirped in her purse, but she ignored it. Could she still give a little without being weak? Maybe, in some cases, it showed strength to be the first one to yield. To forgive. After all, picking up the phone to call James was proving one of the harder things to do in her life.
She voiced the fear in her heart. “What if he doesn’t want me?”
“Then he’s an idiot not worthy of your awesomeness.” Cass nudged her with her elbow. “And we can go bedazzle all his belts. Remember?”
Sarah chuckled. That was a hard memory to forget. She and Cass, led by an unrepentant Conner, of course, had punched rhinestones into Joe’s police belt the day after he graduated the academy.
He hadn’t been pleased.
Her phone chimed again.
“Aren’t y
ou going to check that?” Cassie asked.
“I wanted one lunch to relax without my phone.”
“It could be James texting.”
“If he’s even still in Shelter Bay.” Sarah nibbled on her lip. She might be willing to make the first move to reconciliation, but it would be awfully nice if she didn’t have to. She dug her phone from her purse, her heart falling when she saw it was just a message from her website.
She drew her eyebrows together. “This doesn’t make sense.” The number was too big. “There must be a mistake.”
“What?” Cassie leaned over her shoulder to sneak a peek at her phone. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“My feral cat website is set up to send me notifications when donations come through. I got twenty bucks last night, which was great, but this…”
Cassie snatched her phone and peered at it. “One thousand three hundred dollars?” She whistled. “That’s a lot of cat food.”
The phone chimed again with a fifty-dollar donation. Cass gave Sarah back her phone and dug out her own.
“Melanie. She said she was going to come up with a plan.” Sarah stared at the numbers again. Her heart raced. “She’s a marketing genius.”
“Uh, I don’t think this was Melanie. Or at least not all her.” Cass pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head. “And James has definitely not left town.”
Sarah scrambled close to Cassie – and her phone. “What are you looking at?”
She showed her. On her screen, with a big grin, and a big scratch down his bare chest, James stared out at her holding an angry cat.
“This is brilliant.” Cassie shook her head and scrolled down his Instagram feed. “He’s even got some local media involved to help promote it. And he’s using the FFS hashtag! He wrote, ‘#FFS, help the feral cats out.’ That will get a lot of attention.”
“What?” Sarah only had eyes for James’s picture. She hadn’t read any of the text.
“He’s doing a strip tease to earn money for your non-profit,” Cass said gleefully. “He took a picture with his shirt off after one grand came in. The pants come off at…” She scrolled some more. “Five grand.”
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