Barefoot in the Sun

by Roxanne St Claire

  “That’s more or less what that means, but it’s just an expression. It doesn’t mean he literally had a shotgun there.”

  “I didn’t think Grandpa Walter owned a gun.”

  He smiled. “I doubt it, too.” He patted Evan’s shoulder. “It’s all history and it doesn’t matter anymore. Your mom and I both love you and that’s all that really—”

  “So what does it mean, a shotgun wedding?”

  Oliver stared at him. He could lie. He could make something up, like you would with any normal eight-year-old, but this was Evan. He’d Google the expression in the morning anyway. “It means that…”

  Hadn’t he ever done the math? Or did his young mind not work that way yet, despite its advanced capabilities?

  “Your mom was already pregnant with you, Evan. And that’s an old expression that means the mom was going to have a baby before the couple actually got married.”

  He waited for the reaction, which, with Evan, could range from innocent shock to a lecture on the gestation period of the mammal.

  Evan didn’t react at all, though. He turned away and looked up at the ceiling, saying nothing.

  “So, you can stop worrying about Grandpa Walter shooting me.”

  “Okay.”

  Oliver gave his arm a pat. “This is serious stuff for the middle of the night, son. I don’t think we’ve ever talked about anything more serious than the weather.”

  Evan gave him a sly smile. “Which is serious stuff.”

  A rush of love almost choked him. His son had a sense of humor, a heart of gold, and a hunger to know everything. Zoe was right. All he had to do was relax and parenting came naturally.

  Turning, Evan wrapped his arms around the pillow, a sleepy smile working on his mouth. “Pasha’s right. You and Zoe should get married.”

  Just when he thought he had things under control. “Pasha said that to you?”

  “When we were playing Rat Screws,” he said. “You guys were gone a long time and she said something like that. I don’t think she knew I heard her, but I did.”

  Oliver blew out a breath and stole a look at the clock. “Hey, it’s almost three-thirty. Can we table this until I get some sleep? I have to be a doctor tomorrow.”

  “If you tell me a story.”

  Oliver could have cried. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Evan looked at him. “A good one. Like when you were my age.”

  “When I was your age, I…” Had a perfectly normal life in Wilmington, Delaware, with a dad who went to work every day as an engineer at DuPont and a mother who laughed a lot and played a lot and had a crazy streak that made her do impulsive things. “I liked to ride my bike a lot.”

  “Where’d you ride?”

  “You know, the usual. School, the baseball park, library.”

  He lifted his head, shocked. “You were allowed to ride your bike to school when you were eight? I’m not.”

  “Different world. Is this a story or an inquisition?”

  Evan smiled. “Story. Tell me the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “You,” he said without hesitation.

  “Okay, the worst.”

  He knew that without hesitation, too. But he wouldn’t tell his son. That wasn’t exactly a bedtime story. He reached for the light, switching it off and bathing them in darkness.

  “I broke my arm jumping off a cliff near a graveyard.”

  The sheets rustled as Evan sat up again. “Nuh-uh! You? You never do anything that fun.”

  “Damn it, Evan, I’m going to rid you of that notion if it kills me. I love fun.”

  A soft giggle was the only response.

  “I’m going to prove it, too,” he added. “I just haven’t figured out how yet.” He thought for a moment. “Anyway, the cliff. I was sailing along at about twenty miles an hour on my bike and there was this kid who dared me to jump a cliff and, man, if that isn’t a lesson not to pay attention to idiots, I don’t know what is. So guess what happened?”

  Silence.

  He leaned over and heard the steady breathing of an exhausted child.

  Lying back on his own pillow, Oliver stared up into the darkness, a maelstrom of emotions zipping through him.

  Why was it so hard to do this most of the time? Was it because Adele had been around and he didn’t think Evan needed him? Was it because he didn’t really understand this complex child with an adult’s brain and a kid’s soul?

  Or was it because Evan reminded Oliver of himself?

  The truth thudded in his chest.

  And next year, when Evan turned nine, he’d be the same age Oliver was when his perfectly normal life crumbled and everything he believed to be true turned out to be a lie.

  The day Oliver had come home to an empty house and climbed up the stairs, then up to the attic…then felt the whole world fall away.

  Zoe’s voice echoed. I have to have an escape route…In fact, I’m terrified if I don’t have one.

  There wasn’t anything that scared Oliver more than a woman desperate to escape.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The soft vibration of her phone pulled Zoe from a surprisingly deep sleep, followed by a split second of confusion. Where was she?

  Then she remembered last night. The disbelieving stares, the dropped jaws, the confused questions, and, finally, the silent click of the door when Tessa walked out into the gray whispers of dawn. Zoe had crawled into the guest room to sleep.

  From somewhere in the house a baby cried and high-pitched women’s voices replied—Jocelyn and Lacey cooing over Elijah.

  The phone vibrated again and she reached for it, longing for news about Pasha and, almost as much, a call from Tessa. Oliver’s deep voice greeted her with a simple, “Hey,” and that was enough to send off a flock of wild hummingbirds in her stomach.

  “Hey back. Any news?”

  “I just talked to the hospital, and Pasha’s doing very well.”

  She looked skyward, silently thanking whatever power ran this universe. “Should I go and get her now?”

  “They’re going to release her this morning and I’d like to take her straight to our clinic. We have round-the-clock care and she’ll be in good hands. We have a battery of tests to do before we can actually perform the gene-therapy treatment. I want to start today.”

  His competence and confidence covered her like the puffy down comforter she curled under.

  “What about Evan?” she asked. Funny how he already figured into her logistics.

  “I’ll have to figure something out.”

  “I’m still at Lacey’s. Why don’t you bring him here? Ashley can watch him.”

  “Perfect. We’ll be over in a few minutes. You need anything?”

  “Just you.” The words were out before any sleepy brain cells could engage and stop her.

  He didn’t answer right away, sending a little wave of heat and nerves through her chest as she waited.

  “I can fix that, Zoe,” he finally whispered.

  She closed her eyes, falling on the pillow with a dreamy smile. “Ah, the man who can fix anything.”

  “We’ll see, won’t we?”

  The guest bedroom doorknob twisted and, very slowly, the door inched open, not revealing who was behind it. Please be Tessa. Please be—

  A hand holding a coffee cup jutted through the door. “I come in peace.”

  Tessa. She almost melted with relief.

  “Hey, I gotta go, doc.” When she clicked off, she put down the phone and took a deep breath before asking, “Two sugars and extra cream and no arsenic?”

  “The garden is fresh out of arsenic,” Tessa replied from behind the door.

  “Then you may enter.”

  Tessa stepped in, her doe-brown eyes much softer than last night. “We are growing a bumper crop of humble pie and I’m planning to eat some for breakfast. Join me?”

  “Oh, Tess.” Zoe sighed the exclamation. “You don’t owe me an apology. I owe—”

  “No.”
Tessa waved the hand not holding the coffee, coming closer. “I lost count of how many times you said you’re sorry last night. It hit triple digits, though.”

  Zoe took the mug and patted the bed next to her. “I feel one more bubbling up.”

  “Drink instead.”

  She did, letting the warm liquid comfort her throat and send much-needed life into her veins. “Where are Joss and Lacey?”

  “Where do you think?”

  She thought about that for a minute, frowning. “Listening outside the door?”

  They appeared almost instantly, making Zoe laugh so hard she almost spilled the coffee. Baby Elijah stirred in Lacey’s arms.

  “You guys,” Zoe said, shaking her head and carefully setting down the mug. “I love how predictable you are.” She reached out. “Let me smell the mini-guy.”

  Lacey obliged, propping herself on the edge of the bed to hand the baby to Zoe. Jocelyn came around the other side, and then all four of them were on the bed, surrounding Zoe and the baby.

  “Look at us, all gathered on one bed on a Sunday morning for a rehash of Saturday night,” Jocelyn said. “This reminds me of dorm days.”

  “Only I’m not hungover,” Zoe said, cuddling the tiny bundle of boy into her arms. “And there were no itty-bitty sweet wittle babies.”

  “Trust me, he wasn’t so sweet at one, three, four-thirty and six-eighteen,” Lacey said.

  Zoe looked up. “Don’t let the kid take all the credit for annihilating your sleep. I own that wreckage.”

  Elijah made a soft shuddering sigh, and they all used the excuse to stare at him and not say a word. Last night’s conversation was obviously not over yet.

  “We’ve been talking about you, Zoe,” Jocelyn finally said.

  “I’m sure you have,” she replied. “I have provided gossip fodder for years to come.”

  Lacey looked indignant. “We don’t gossip about each other.”

  Zoe lifted a brow. “You whisper about me behind my back. What’s the difference?”

  “The difference,” Jocelyn said, “is that you gossip about strangers or people you don’t care about or someone who isn’t…”

  “Family.” Tessa supplied the word, and put her hand on Zoe’s. “Because, like it or not, we are yours.”

  Shit. Now she was going to cry. She finally met Tessa’s gaze, her brain rummaging through a lifetime of smart-ass answers for the right one. Nothing came. “Thank you,” she managed, her voice cracking. “And I’m so—”

  “Don’t.” Tessa squeezed her hand. “We know you’re sorry.”

  “And I know you’re hurt by all the years of lying. I hope that, over time, you can forgive and forget.”

  “Zoe, we love you,” Lacey assured her. “You know that, don’t you?”

  She nodded, her throat tightening.

  “Do you know what that means?” Jocelyn asked.

  Sometimes she wondered. But not now. Not right this minute, wrapped in a lifetime of friendship. “It means I’m forgiven?”

  “Before you even woke up,” Lacey said.

  Zoe tried to smile, but her lips quivered. “You guys always were very productive while I slept.”

  “You have no idea,” Jocelyn told her. “I’ve already made a list of all the things you need to do to address this issue, personally, professionally, and emotionally.”

  Zoe smiled. “Ever the life coach, Joss.”

  “And I’ve gotten the phone numbers for three attorneys,” Lacey added. “Right in Naples, so you can meet with them soon.”

  “Oh, thanks.” I think.

  “And I picked a whole sachet of herbs,” Tessa said, reaching into her pocket. “I have a mix of tumeric and meadowsweet in a compress to get those swollen eyes back to normal, if you promise me no more tears today.”

  But she was already breaking that promise, overwhelmed by the three women who loved her more than any family could. “You guys…” Moisture blurred her vision and she attempted a laugh. “I’m sorry.” She blinked, and one tear rolled right onto Elijah’s cheek.

  “Oh, boy,” Jocelyn said, wiping it away. “Pasha would probably say that means it’s going to rain on his wedding day or something.”

  “Speaking of Pasha,” Tessa said. “Latest?”

  The doorbell rang before Zoe answered. “She’s good and that’s Oliver. He’s bringing Evan here and we’re moving Pasha to the IDEA clinic to start the whole process of preparing for the gene therapy.”

  “I’ll go let him in,” Lacey said, reaching for the baby. “You better get dressed.”

  “I’ll get you my list,” Jocelyn added, following Lacey out the door.

  “Thanks.” Zoe didn’t move for a minute, looking at Tessa and waiting for her to chime in. But Tessa didn’t say a word, even though something was clearly troubling her.

  “What is it, Tess? I know it’s going to take you a while—”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not it. I want to…I’m sorry, Zoe.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I do.” She took Zoe’s hand and lifted it. “I’m sorry for what I said about foster children.”

  “Oh, that.” Yeah, Tess probably did owe her an apology for those comments. “You didn’t know.”

  “I should have been more sensitive.”

  “I should have been honest, so we’re even.”

  From the living room they heard the baritone of Oliver’s laugh, and Zoe’s eyes widened in response. Zoe threw back the covers and leaped out of bed.

  “Like him, do you?” Tessa asked.

  She shrugged, but Tessa snagged Zoe’s T-shirt and kept her in place. “Hey. No more secrets, Zoe Tamarin.”

  Zoe turned slowly, a typical retort brewing, but she tamped it down. “I more than like him, Tess, and that’s what scares the holy shit out of me.”

  “Why? He’s great, Zoe. He’s smart and gorgeous and charming and obviously makes terrific babies.”

  Zoe laughed. “Yes, from a sociological and reproductive standpoint, he’s a ten.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  Zoe shook her head, tugging her T-shirt free. “I can’t, Tess.”

  “Can’t what? Tell me? Take a risk? Stop moving long enough to make a commitment? We’re going to work on all that for you, Zoe, and you’ll be able to—”

  “I can’t do a whole…long-term, permanent, happily-ever-after thing.”

  “Also known as marriage.”

  Zoe waved off the word with a shrug. “Whatever you want to call it.”

  Tessa snorted. “That’s generally what it’s called.”

  “Whatever name you give it, Tess, I don’t know how it’s done.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t…I’ve never…I don’t have a flipping clue what the rules are,” she finally managed.

  “It’s not a card game, Zoe. There aren’t rules and winners and losers.”

  Really? “I beg to differ. Lacey’s a winner.”

  “Then I’m a loser.”

  Zoe closed her eyes, cursing herself for causing the hurt in Tessa’s voice. “Look,” she said. “This is hard for most people to understand, but I never had parents, Tessa. I lived in shitty foster homes and then spent the rest of my life with a crazy old lady who was ready to move every time a librarian asked for ID when we tried to take out a book.”

  “And that’s what’s stopping you?” Tessa sounded dumbfounded, and Zoe didn’t blame her.

  “Nothing’s stopping me. Trust me, I’m doing my level best to get the man in bed.”

  “Just in bed?”

  “Well, I tried the pool but, you know, he’s a traditionalist.”

  “Zoe.” Tessa smashed a decade and a half of exasperation into both syllables of Zoe’s name. “You know there’s no future, and yet you want to have sex with him?”

  She held out her wrist. “Pulse, beating.” She touched her lower abdomen. “Body parts, female.” Then her forehead. “Pituitary gland, operational.
Yes, I want to have sex with him.”

  Tessa just stared.

  “What? You’ve never fucked for fun, Tessa? It’s always for a baby?” She heard her voice turn thickly defensive, and mean. God, why did she and Tessa always fight? “Sex is normal. It’s natural, it’s—”

  “A cop-out.”

  Zoe closed her eyes and turned away, walking to the bathroom as fast as she could, but only because she couldn’t get up enough speed to run.

  At the end of a long day that had put Pasha through a battery of tests and examinations, Oliver and his team had almost everything they needed for an accurate diagnosis, second and third opinions, and then a final decision on the treatment.

  Driving over the bridge back to Mimosa Key, they’d left the top of Zoe’s Jeep down, and the wind whipped so loudly there was no chance for conversation. Oliver had given Evan permission to stay at Lacey’s for dinner and then go to a late movie with Ashley and Clay, so he and Zoe drove in a comfortable quiet.

  The clunk of the tires on the metal bridge, along with a sense of peace that there was truly hope for Pasha, nearly put Zoe to sleep, but Oliver’s hand on her leg woke her up when they reached Mimosa Key.

  “How about dinner,” he suggested.

  She moaned softly. “I don’t want to go into a restaurant. Let’s pick up.”

  “Choices?”

  She thought about them. “There’s bad burgers at the Toasted Pelican, gooey enchiladas at the SOB, or some of those lovely might-not-really-be-meat hot dogs that Charity overcharges for at the Super Min.”

  “The Super Min is the convenience store?” He slowed at the corner. “How about I grab a frozen pizza and beer?”

  “Heavenly. Can I wait here?”

  “Sure. Be right back.”

  Before she answered, he climbed out of the car. Almost instantly Zoe closed her eyes, drifting off to a peaceful place, too tired to think about anything but the need for—

  “Ms. Tamarin?”

  She jumped, blinking into the fading light and seeing a vaguely familiar face, then bolted upright when she realized who it was. “Deputy Garrison.”

  He nodded, coming closer. “I’d hoped to hear from you today.”

  Oh, yeah. She owed him a call and information. “It’s Sunday,” she said quickly. “I thought you’d be off today.”